


Lap Dog

by BardToThra



Series: Tomes Of The Hunter [1]
Category: The Dark Crystal: Age of Resistance (TV)
Genre: Abuse, Cannibalism, Death, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Master/Pet, Master/Servant, Possessive Behavior, Rape Aftermath, Rape/Non-con Elements, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2020-01-21
Packaged: 2020-11-25 20:56:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 23
Words: 50,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20918483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BardToThra/pseuds/BardToThra
Summary: skekMal is restless, for hunting has grown stale in the Endless Forest and he hungers for the thrill of a worthy catch. He stumbles across a young female Gelfling and decides to make her his sport.Dark non con fic.





	1. The Prey

**Author's Note:**

> Set some indeterminable time before Resistance! Enjoy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *The sequel to this story, Mercy, is now out! Skip to Chapter 7 of that story if you want to get straight in to skekMal/Gelfling content*

Hunting had been dry in the Endless Forest as of late, at least in skekMal's opinion. Many of the animals seemed sick, either slow and dull or violently unpredictable, the latter of which might have been entertaining under other circumstances. But some kind of disease had turned their meat even as they lived, the dank and dirty scent souring skekMal's stomach. He'd been forced to burn the pelt and bone of many a catch to be rid of it, and there was no sport in chasing a useless prize.

It was his _kin's_ fault, skekMal gathered. They must be up to something at the castle; their spoilt lot always were. skekMal had no interest in it, just so long as it didn't starve him too long of a hunt. His latest travels had taken him near to the perimeter of Stonewood Clan territory, close enough that he smelled the odd Gelfling from afar. They usually weren't much of a challenge, being small and naive and utterly unaware that the Hunter of legend was Skeksis, and quite real indeed. Shock took them as quickly as his blades did, although their terror in that moment could sometimes be as good as a proper hunt.

Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad to chase one down again.

skekMal stalked the forest for an hour or so, watching intently for any sign of life. He didn't want to tread much closer to the Stonewood settlement; few Gelfling had clapped eyes on the Hunter and survived, and he wanted to keep it that way. No animals approached, even birds. Lucky for them, considering the Hunter could cut a sparrow down from the sky without even looking at it.

It was only when the afternoon drew towards dark that, at last, skekMal found what he was looking- or rather, _listening_ for. Voices, one high and female, one low, boyish. Both Gelfling.

Grinning, skekMal tracked the source to a small clearing and hid himself in a thicket to observe. There were two figures, the taller comforting the shorter, though both were smaller than skekMal would have liked. The little one was a boy of the Stonewood clan, his dark hair unruly as a Fizzgig, but the _other_\- skekMal could scarcely believe it. She was almost green in complexion, hair dirty white and tangled with grass.

A girl from the Grottan clan. Far from her home, and at a disadvantage; her eyes, unlike most of her kin, were milky grey. The pitiable creature was blind, or near to it.

The girl appeared to beseech the male as she pulled him close to look at his face.

"Tarron, _please_ forgive me," she was saying, in a gentle, tired voice. "I didn't _mean_ to push you down. You know I'm a bit clumsy sometimes, if I don't know a place very well. I tripped, that's all. I'd _never_ hurt my little brother on purpose."

"I'm glad you're not my _real_ sister," the boy said, wrenching himself away. "My head _hurts_. What would you have done if I'd ended up cracking it like an egg?"

"Clean it up, I suppose," the girl said, and they both burst into laughter.

skekMal rolled his eyes in derision. Such a sweet little domestic scene, one he couldn't _wait_ to spoil.

What was the female _doing_, gamboling with this infant like a Childling? She was at least as old as the youngest Vapra Princess; her wings were full-grown and her breasts had budded, pushing against the front of her rough dress. Besides, he had the scent of her. The scene of Woman-kind.

skekMal tilted his head, considering. It had been half a trine since he'd rutted; there were enough females on Thra for him to take his picking, but when hunting was good he forgot such thirsts in the midst of it. Now he thought he fancied a roll, and this Gelfling, though low in class, was pretty, even if her eyes looked like greywater.

skekMal circled the pair, drool gathering in his open mouth. He'd kill the _boy_ first, wrench his tiny head from his neck between his swords and trail the girl after. Grottan folk were simple and innocent creatures, from what he recalled from his last encounter with their kind. He'd killed two explorers in this same wood, once, and they'd folded like cotton beneath his hands.

"It's getting dark now," said the girl, shaking soil from her dress. "It _must_ be, I can feel it; the animals are so quiet. Do you remember the way back to the village?"

"Of course," said the boy. "I'm not stupid, or _blind_, like _some_."

"I can see you enough to push you again if you carry on," the girl said, wiggling her fingers.

"There! So you _did_ push me! Leina, you're such a liar! Liar _liar_ Leina!"

"Alright, here I come!" the girl cried, and pounced on the boy.

skekMal took the chance to approach, slinking through the trees, quiet as mist. Most prey would have been so distracted they'd never notice him, even those with the keenest senses, but the girl's head shot up, her broad ears twitching. It was a myth that blind things had sharper hearing; this skekMal knew from the many animals he'd taken down over a thousand trine -but no doubt the girl, lacking sight, had learned to concentrate more, to use what little she had. Besides, she was a Grottan- their hearing was sharper than other Gelfling clans', although still no match for the Hunter's.

The girl's nose, to his fortune, would catch _nothing_. The Hunter had always smelled like Gelfling.

"Tarron," the girl said, with a false, playful tone. "I want you to run ahead, and I'll follow. Like a game. I'll be able to catch up, don't worry. Don't stop til you get back home; I want to prove that I can do it."

"Really? You're not going to get lost and _eaten_ or something?"

The little female looked at the boy, but skekMal could see the muscles in her face twitching, desperate to turn around. The Hunter grinned to himself, wondering what kind of beast she thought he might be.

"_Honest_. Please Tarron, I'll never learn if you don't let me try."

The boy jumped to his feet and began to run. Of course he ran straight towards skekMal, unable to see him secreted in the bushes. Silent, gliding, the Hunter stood, took three steps to his left and brought both blades together. Quick, clean, the way he'd planned, the child's eyes meeting skekMal's own through the mask and clouding with awful realisation before his spine was severed. His head snipped away, easy as the dead bud of a flower from its stalk.

The little body dropped still in the grass.

skekMal licked the fresh blood dripping down his arms, relishing the metal tang as it slid down his throat. His brethren missed so _very_ much by leading over these creatures rather than putting them to slaughter.

In the clearing the Grottan girl stood still, quivering, her eyes gazing almost in skekMal's direction but clearly not seeing far enough to know if her 'brother' had escaped or not. She began edging quietly backwards, drawing a little penknife from the pocket of her dress. Her face was taut, expressionless, but she stank of fear and panic.

skekMal guessed that she would now either bolt or try to appeal to him, the way these dumb creatures tried to tame all forest animals. To his disbelief and utter delight the girl did neither, reaching into her pocket again to unwrap a parcel of meat. With shaking fingers she cut it into small chunks and threw it far into the woods ahead of her. She lingered, fidgeting, obviously anticipating some shambling creature to emerge, distracted by the morsels.

"Stupid little girl," hissed Skekmal, smirking as the Grottan bitch stiffened at the sound of his voice. "You think the great Hunter will run after your scraps like a pet? Not when there's much better fare staring right at me."

"You are... _you_ are the Hunter?"

The Gelfling's green skin paled into a sickly yellow-white. The little blade cut her hand; skekMal could smell the sweetness of her blood upon it. Chuckling, he put the boy's corpse into a bag swinging at his side and stepped into the clearing. The girl tottered in retreat, somehow keeping her footing on the uneven grass.

"_Yes_, I am the Hunter," gloated skekMal. "A killer, taker of trophies, God of this forsaken wood. You'd do well to pray to me, Gelfling. Not that I'm likely to listen."

"Please leave me and my brother alone," the girl said, quietly. "If we've interrupted your hunt I... I'm very sorry. We just want to go home. Or if you must punish us... hurt me, not my brother."

This time skekMal laughed openly, and the Gelfling, terrified, opened her wings and attempted to fly, crashing into the tree canopy in her fright. The Hunter followed, leaping up into the branches with ease. The girl was fast, but erratic, beating herself against knots and boughs until her skin was scraped bloody. Her breathing and pulse were rough, hard, her tiny body wringing with sweat. The stupidity of her flight had skekMal in stitches, almost laughing himself out of each tree he gripped as the girl made herself weaker and weaker.

At last the Hunter reached out and caught the tip of her left wing, wrenching her from the air. He dragged her down to the ground with him, taking pleasure in knocking her idiotic head on every branch.

Yet the second they touched earth the girl fought back again, kicking and twisting like a dying beetle. Each wrench of her minuscule frame tugged her wing further and further from skekMal's grasp. With his other hand he grasped the back of the girl's dress and _pulled_, the fabric falling away from her slender body. She only wore some kind of flimsy undershirt beneath, and her shoes, which were already half-off her feet. The girl was worn out and panting, but still she begged, so _damnedly_ polite.

"Please, Hunter, _please_ let me free, I'll tell no one, I'll find you better hunting, just please, _please_..."

The boy's blood, still wet, smeared onto the Gelfling's pale shift, dirtying her. She jerked, finally catching the scent of it herself, and let out a reedy scream of disgust.

"What _lovely_ manners you have," skekMal grunted.

He unsheathed one of his blades and shredded the last of the Gelfling's coverings until her naked form was bare in the dying sunlight. So frail, green as an eggshell, and soft, so bloody _soft_.

The Hunter threw the girl down onto the grass and leaned over her, the tip of his skull mask scratching her nose.

"Keep begging," skekMal snarled at her. "But this time I want you to know _exactly_ who you're talking to."

"You... you told me," the girl whispered. "The Hunter."

Growling, skekMal removed his mask, just long enough for the girl's myopic vision to focus on his face. He even seized her tiny, bloodied hand and pressed it to the gnarled skin, his vicious beak, before masking himself again.

"I am skekMal, a Lord of the Crystal," he said. "_Your_ lot serve mine. You'll do whatever I tell you to, wretch, and not just because you're piss-scared of me."

The dreadful realisation on the girl's face was quite delicious.

"You're... you're _Skeksis_. You were Skeksis, all this time. But our Lords... our Lords would _never_ hurt us."

"Fuck that," skekMal said, grazing two of his rough, calloused hands over the girl's small breasts. "If the castle lot haven't already been using your kind for this then they're bigger fools than even _I_ gave them credit for."

The girl struggled again, but more weakly now, seeming to understand the folly of her struggle. Pinned beneath her, her frail wings twitched.

"I don't understand," the girl whispered.

There were no tears, no breakdown, only a sickened bewilderment in her voice.

"Do I need to teach you like a useless bratling?" skekMal snapped. "I'm taking my fill of your body and then you'll die by my sword, unless you plead to keep your pathetic skin. I'd quite like to have you as my lap dog until I get tired of you."

The Gelfling turned her face to the side, her grey-white eyes staring dully into the grass.

"Ah, feeling stubborn, are you?" skekMal muttered.

He was pleased. It bored him when his prey gave up too quickly, which was quite often with Gelfling.

"How about I start _cutting_, eh? Would you like that, Grottan slut? One of those pretty ears would look fine hanging from my belt."

The girl shuddered, but said nothing. skekMal drew his righthand sword and pressed it to the Gelfling's temple, tickling the tip through soft hair until it tugged on the little green lobe. The girl gasped out a piteous cry.

"You _can't_ be Skeksis. You're a monster."

"That I am," said skekMal, lapping blood from the Gelfling's cheek. "But Skeksis all the same, and doubtless the best of them. Now, _Leina_. Beg for your innocence, and your life. I want to hear your sweet little whines again." 


	2. Battle Of Wills

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leina, the poor Gelfing targeted by the Hunter, is ripped from all she knows and brutalised in more ways than one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A day later than promised but here's chapter two! While switching perspectives I covered a little of the same ground mostly for character development reasons but I'll try to avoid rehashing the same events onwards, each viewpoint telling the next part of the story. However we do get the juicy part and move the narrative on here so I hope you'll enjoy!

Leina should have _known_ something was wrong; the woods had never been so silent. She simply hadn't been paying attention, not until it was too late.

It had been laundry day, and Tarron's mother, Salys, had asked Leina to watch the boy for the afternoon, his boisterousness too much for anything to be done in his presence. Leina had been only too glad to take him, for as much as they quarrelled at times Tarron was the one member of the Stonewood clan besides their mother who didn't look at or treat her strangely. They'd never gotten used to having a Grottan amongst their number, although Leina had lived with Salys from infancy. It had been a relief to move to the outskirts of the village into a house of her own, close enough to see her adoptive family daily, far enough to avoid stares and whispers from the others.

Salys had always said that it didn't _matter_ where Leina came from, about class or any of that silly talk. She'd ended up in the village, and was now part of it, and that was that. She was a woman of simple thoughts, pragmatic to a fault, but still open to accepting any creature that crossed her doorstep, even a green child whose parents had gone without a trace. _Especially_ so.

When Salys had her own baby and raised it without a father that child was _one_ with Leina, in Salys' eyes, never better, never different. Thus she had trusted Leina with the boy completely, despite their neighbours' chittering.

Tarron, adventurous as ever, had wanted to play in the woods, much farther than Leina was used to. It made her anxious, for although _she'd_ never had a reason to fear the forest she was sure that straying so far from the village was tempting fate. She'd been told a dozen stories about lost or stolen children, carnivorous plants and tunnels that opened suddenly in the earth to swallow unsuspecting Gelfling whole. Leina had never quite believed in the concept of fiction for fiction's sake; any story must have started in truth _somewhere_.

The woods, therefore, with its monsters and hauntings, _could_ be dangerous, and that made her shorter with Tarron than she should have been. No, she'd been _cruel_, or careless at the very least. Tarron was really too little for roughhousing, smaller than most Gelfing boys his age, and sensitive, his expression crumpling with hurt. Looking at his blurred face in the red afternoon light Leina felt an intense love for the child, the love she knew she would have felt for family of her own blood, had she known them.

But then as they were playing together she'd heard a sound, one she knew meant trouble. It was the _feeling _she got from it more than the sound itself, but it was the crunch of twigs that first alerted her- soft, purposeful, with weight behind it.

The tread of a predator.

There _were_ some animals in the wood that would track Gelfling, if they were hungry enough, but were easily confused or delayed from their hunt if you knew a trick or two. Leina still had sandwich meat left over from lunch; she could cut it up, throw it, and run, but only if she got Tarron away first. She murmured to him, urging him off in the opposite direction to where she thought she'd heard the sound. There was little point turning to check its source even if she'd dared to; Leina's vision was so poor that all she was likely to see was the vague, dark outlines of the trees, the same thing she saw on either side of her.

Tarron had gotten up, his brown eyes gleaming with pride at the thought of leading the way alone. As he sprinted into the undergrowth Leina had heard something strange and awful: a click and following thud. She was_ sure_ she had, but no, she didn't want to believe it, she didn't _want_ to believe that Tarron had gone_ towards_ whatever beast was in the forest with them. She _couldn't_.

Perhaps he'd merely tripped and fallen, pulled himself up again and carried on in the hopes she wouldn't notice, and laugh. The thought made sense, and comforted Leina a little. Digging into her pockets she scattered the meat as she'd planned, and waited, ears perked. This had worked before on different animals, even won them over, from time to time. Salys had told her that the Grottan people raised livestock in their caves, connecting with Thra, and _that_ was why Leina had such a way with strange creatures.

But this time her efforts were only met with silence. Long, ugly silence.

Until the beast spoke to her.

It told her that it was the Hunter.

Everyone in the Stonewood clan had heard about that creature, but only as yet another story, not thinking he could really exist. There were grisly deaths in the forest, sometimes, but that was nature's way. No one truly suspected that the Hunter- a being who lived to chase and torture and consume -could be so _close_, padding quietly alongside them all.

But he _had_ been, all along.

His voice was undeniable, coarse, rasping, clotted with a filthy kind of hunger. His shape, vast and hulking, was like a bruise against Leina's vision, and as he came up close she saw a face made of white bone, arms and shoulders packed with hard muscle, twin swords.

Leina tried to reason with him, as she would any other creature, but he'd laughed, mocking her, and came running, his infamous blades singing through the trees. Not knowing what else to do Leina took flight, knowing her pen knife was no use against him. Her myopia made her flight of little use, for in the fading light all the trees blended into one. Branches tore Leina's face as she crashed through them. She could hear the creature leaping up into the branches after her, as if his joints were metal springs, unhindered by his size. His laughter was a bestial roar, driving her into a frenzy of terror.

As she flew all Leina could think was, "Did he_ kill_ my brother? Did he _kill_ my brother? Did he..."

At last the Hunter had caught her, trailing her down from the sky by the end of one wing. Sharp twigs gouged Leina as she tumbled, and as she hit the ground her muscles screamed, alight with pain on impact.

She forced herself up to wrestle in the Hunter's grip. Although he was frighteningly strong she took him by surprise, might have even _freed_ herself had he not shocked her in return. He stripped her, ripping off her dress like animal hide, and spun her round so that when she fell she was on her back, and useless.

Some strange, primal sense in Leina ignited, and she _knew_ the pulling of her clothes meant something more terrible than anything she'd ever dreamed awaited her in the woods.

There were _things_ Gelfling whispered of, so vile and awful that only the most _evil_ of beings would do it to another. It was the one subject dear, frank-worded Salys had never seemed to know how to broach, even with a girl old enough to listen. _Too_ old, truly, to be ignorant of doings in the dark, yet as Leina begged and babbled she _felt_ the Hunter's want, and understood it.

As he leaned over her to slice the last of her underclothes away the creature's bulk scraped against her, rubbing wetness upon her chest. The smell of it Leina knew from slicing her foot as a child, from her own cut hand now: Gelfling blood.

She understood, then, that this animal _had_ murdered her brother, and revelled in it.

A scream jerked out of her, short and harsh. It was all Leina had strength in her to summon. Clearly it wasn't enough for the Hunter; he gloated and goaded over her, savouring her misery like a rich soup. Then he told her who he was, who he _really_ was, made her _see_ and feel it for herself.

_skekMal_. Skeksis.

It floored her. How could such a terrible, bloodthirsty creature be one of the fine, beautiful Lords of the Crystal, the race that had gifted hers so much? Leina knew that he wasn't lying; she'd been to ceremonies with Salys, from time to time, been shown paintings and told often of the Skeksis' boundless pleasant qualities. The moment the Hunter came up close, removing the white skull she had thought was his face, she recognised his species at once.

_Skeksis. Skeksis._

Still her lips moved of their own accord, mumbling disbelief. Leina was almost _afraid_ to struggle now, for as cruel as this skekMal was to fight against his will was treason. Besides, he _lusted_ for her struggle, cutting her in an attempt to stir her terror again. Leina barely understood a word he said to her; most of it was perverse filth, hinting at those awful, shadowy half-understood things.

"Never been touched, have you?" said the Hunter, his eyes alight with some unknowable evil. "I know what'll make you squeal."

He dragged long, clawed fingers down her belly, between her legs, the points of his nails making her whimper in anticipation of pain. With rough jerks he thrust them inside her, filling the warm, wet place only Leina herself had ever fumbled secretly at night. She felt no pleasure now, only disgust and biting agony. skekMal loomed over her, drool running from underneath his foul mask. She could smell his sweat as well as her brother's blood, the musty scent of wet bird feathers and the sharper, cleaner scent of the woods.

"Like it, Gelfling? You're _quiet_. Wouldn't want me to be too rough, and tear you, now would you?"

"N-no, my Lord," Leina choked out through gritted teeth.

"Then _entertain_ me, blind little caveworm. I _said_ I wanted to hear you. You'll not live long if you don't obey me."

"I...I..."

A flush of indignant humiliation washed over her, mingling horribly with her fear and grief. By the Crystal, she hated him, this dribbling _beast_ who claimed to be her superior. How stupid and craven he looked, fumbling her. She closed her eyes, grinding her teeth so the noise might fill her skull and drown him out.

_Let_ him kill her; her brother was gone, slaughtered by the same fingers clenched inside her. Death, at least, would bring her dear Tarron back to her, and she to him.

"You're _funny_," skekMal grunted. "Think I'll let you die a proud, rebellious death, like a maiden in some fucking song? No, no. You're my _slave_ and you'll bloody well act like it."

There was a leathery rustling, and the Hunter was pushing something thick and hard where his fingers had been- no, there were _more_ than one, thick and heavy, promising more pain still. Leina opened her eyes and shook her head, suddenly hopelessly frightened. She could no more stand to allow his abuse than cave in and beg, but she _had_ to yield, one way or another.

The Hunter would allow no other choice.

"My Lord, my Lord, _please_ don't. I want to go home. Please, I promise I'll never tell anyone what happened, I'll never tell anyone who you are, please..."

"Good girl," skekMal purred, and rocked himself against her. "How prettily you plead. But no. I think I'll _have_ you."

The head of one of those thick organs rammed into Leina, so monstrously, grotesquely big that she screamed again, her hands flying up to beat skekMal's armoured chest. He pinned them down, snarling against her neck. She'd never seen anyone in such a state of ecstasy, let alone while causing another such pain.

"You'll take this, and worse," the Hunter said, between thrusts. "You've three holes to use, and if you give me more trouble than you're worth I'll cut _more_."

"No, please, my Lord, I..."

Leina hated the sound of her own voice, thin and bleating. But now she'd given into the Hunter's wishes she couldn't seem to stop. At last even he tired of her, for he clapped a scaly hand over her mouth. She felt him shuddering within her, wetness, the primal growl of skekMal's breath on her face. Then at last he got off her, the lifted weight a small, precious relief.

"You'll do, girl," he said. "Now get up. You're coming back to my camp with me."

He grabbed Leina by the hair and pulled her to her feet. She hung, dejected, in his grip, disgusted by the way his foul gaze still poured over her bruised body.

"You'll need something to wear, or you'll catch some damned cold and be useless to me. But for now..."

The Hunter hoisted her up over his shoulder, as if she were a hunk of meat. There was a bag hanging beside her, stained and oozing. Her nose and throat was filled with the stink of Gelfing, of death, of Tarron.

Leina screamed.

* *

The Gelfling had been tight, unused, and put up just the right amount of struggle for skekMal's liking. But she hadn't _cried_, which surprised him. Screamed plenty, begged when he pushed her to, but not a single tear left those large, milky eyes, no matter how hard he fucked her. Not even when she caught the scent of the boy's blood, of death.

It would be a delicious challenge to break her in, make her weep with all her tiny Gelfling heart. But there was something about her skekMal did not like; he'd sensed an undercurrent of disrespect, as if in _her_ esteem he was some lower being in comparison to his brethren.

_That_ would change quickly. The girl would learn to crawl and worship him, fear him above even death, cleave to him like the loyal pet she'd soon become.

"_Hush_, brat," said skekMal, shaking the Gelfling. "I'm tired of your clamour."

She was clinging, naked, to his shoulder, scrambling away from the bag swinging at his side. Her screams faltered to a shuddering whine.

"My _brother_," she said. "He's _in_ that satchel, isn't he? Why couldn't you just leave him to the forest?"

skekMal grunted. It amused him the girl was still so consumed with thoughts of the dead childling when she herself had been brutalised only minutes ago. Had he not ridden her hard enough?

"Speak when you're spoken to, scum," he said. "Or do you need teaching _another_ lesson?"

He shook her violently, one hand wrenching her breast. She quieted again, but skekMal could feel her heaving in distress as he carried her through the woods towards his camp. A sly smirk crept across his face. He'd already planned to roast and eat the boy, the way he did everything he hunted. Being half-blind the little wench might not even know it if she was served up a piece, and if she did the Hunter would simply _make_ her eat.

He couldn't have his creature _starve_, after all.

It was dark by the time skekMal arrived back at the camp. He had made a tent from a leathered roll of skin and broken branches, camouflaged perfectly with the trees. It was as he had left it, he noted with pride. Not even the animals had noticed that it was there.

skekMal dumped the girl at the mouth of the tent, unloaded his bag and weaponry inside it, then turned to stoke up a fire. From the corner of his eye he saw the girl drag herself onto all fours and vomit silently into the grass. Her hide gleamed with blood and his own white leavings, beginning to dry. Looking at her stirred him again.

"Come here," said the Hunter.

The girl stiffened, but remained where she was, still spitting clotted strands into the earth. She had some courage, skekMal supposed, he'd give her that.

"Come here or I'll whip the green skin off your back," skekMal barked. "You'll sleep on your belly for weeks."

Slowly the Gelfling got to her feet and approached, her white eyes rolling over him uncertainly. He doubted she could see anything at all, in the dark.

"Kneel," skekMal said.

The girl stared at him, her strange, pretty face infernally blank. skekMal was suddenly enraged.

"Are you _deaf_ as well as blind? On your fucking knees, thick-skull."

He caught a tangle of her white hair and pushed her face into his crotch. With his other hand he freed his cocks from his breeches.

"Take your pick. Suck me. Your kind might only have one each but the manner of it is the same."

More dull staring. Of course; the girl had never done such a thing before.

"Open your pretty mouth."

Reluctantly she did. The inside of her mouth, too, was green, and lined with little pearly teeth.

_Precious_, the Hunter thought.

Putting a hand at the back of her head the Hunter forced himself into the girl's mouth, her throat, roughly moving her up and down upon him. With his other hand he stroked his other phalluses, groaning softly. Her mouth was so small and warm, squeezing tightly, and the Gelfling looked so fragile and delicious in the firelight that he came quickly, in her mouth and onto the ground.

"Swallow. If you spit I'll only do it again until your throat bleeds."

Looking into the girl's clouded eyes as her throat squeezed skekMal saw a stirring of pure, venomous hatred. He doubted she knew he was able to read her feelings so clearly, or most likely she would have hidden it. Seizing her by a handful of knotted braids skekMal rammed the girl down into the grass, where the remnants of his climax glistened, and rubbed her face in it.

"You'll fucking learn not to look at me like that, girl," he said. "Where does that pride come from, eh? You're _nothing_. Even your own kind think you're rotten. You're lucky you're not _ugly_ like some of your ilk, or I'd kill you just to put you out of your wretched misery."

He yanked her back up level to his face, hoping to see the glimmer of a tear. But there was nothing. Yet on her lower lip was a bead of blood, and skekMal realised the girl had bitten it so that she wouldn't make a sound.


	3. Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> By firelight skekMal reveals that he owns his captive, Leina, more than she realised before

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another fresh chapter for you readers! skekMal is SO much fun to write because he's so utterly awful. Hope you enjoy

Leina sat by the fire, knees drawn up to her chin, listening to the Skeksis who called himself the Hunter go about his business. She could only see him vaguely now, a tall, vicious figure, horribly quick and fluid in his movement. Leina was glad her sight was too poor to see if he was looking at her. The idea of catching his attention and being used for his disgusting needs for a _third_ time made her mouth dry.

She wished that she could pretend he wasn't there, but Leina couldn't help but observe, listening to him pare and clean his blades. He had four swords, she realised, and four arms, an additional smaller two she hadn't noticed while attempting to run from him. It made her sick to think how he'd used them on Tarron, that it was _his_ blood being washed away.

This _skekMal_ could never know what a terrible thing he'd done in killing her brother, at least beyond the wicked pleasure of his hunt. He couldn't see how every memory of him now throbbed like a burn, making Leina wish she could forget them all simply to soften the ache.

If he could he would have relished it, no doubt.

Leina couldn't cry, somehow, although she wanted to. There was an echoing hole inside her where all the right feelings should be, making her wonder if she'd gone mad. But she didn't _feel_ mad, but rather flatly, clearly aware off the dreadful things that were happening to her.

She tried to focus on what she had loved about Tarron, days that had been happier- holding him as a baby, taking him swimming in a lake for the first time, teaching him a rhyming song where all the words jumbled together and they'd both ended up screaming with laughter by the end of it. His hair had smelled like warm bread and leaves, and his hugs had been squirming and uncomfortable yet, somehow, perfect. She would miss them so much.

"You're quiet, Gelfling," said the Hunter, suddenly, jerking Leina from her thoughts. "First time since I clapped eyes on you that mouth of yours has shut."

"I don't have anything to say," said Leina. "And you told me not to talk any more."

She tried to keep the bitterness from her voice to avoid angering him, but it was still there, on the edges. Even across the fire she sensed skekMal bristle.

"Quite right. I did. To save myself an earful of your squeaking. But now I wonder if you're not plotting something. Your kind usually are, and it never works."

The Hunter jerked his hand, causing the metal of his blades to squeal together in a haunting note. Leina swallowed. She wasn't sure why the Skeksis was suddenly so talkative; perhaps he was trying to provoke a rise, looking for an excuse to hurt her again. She was determined not to give him one. Her mouth still tasted of his foul seed.

"I... I'm not planning anything, my Lord. I'm thinking. About... about my brother."

"Your brother," skekMal repeated, mocking. "That boy was no kin of yours. You're not of his clan, are you, _Grottan_?"

"Not by birth, my Lord. But I lost my parents as a baby and my mum... my brother's mum raised me."

Perhaps keeping him talking was the safest course of action. If the creature had to think of responses he couldn't possibly have room in his head to linger on touching her again. Still, it pained Leina to speak of her family, so much that she could barely breathe.

"What happened to your parents? Abandon you, did they? No wonder you act like an infant when you're a woman grown."

"No," said Leina, softly. "They didn't abandon me. They saved me. That's... that's what Mum thinks. They left me at the border of our village; that's where she found me."

The scraping of metal ceased, and peeking through her knees Leina thought she saw the Hunter's vast, unfocused shape moving closer around the fire.

"And? What then?"

There was greed in his rasping voice. It made her nauseous.

"They... died," she said. "Attacked by some kind of animal, my Mum thinks. But they were never found, so nobody really knows who they were or what happened but there were... there were _signs_..."

Leina lifted her head and stiffened. Somehow she could sense the Hunter smiling in the pause, though he made no sound nor comment for some time. She opened her mouth to continue, then faltered, sick realisation hitting her like lead. Biting her already torn lip was the only thing that kept her from making a sound, but she couldn't stop herself shaking.

"I remember that hunt," skekMal said, quietly. "Very short, as I recall it, but entertaining enough. Few Gelfling put up a scrap like they did. Fierce little biters. I kept their teeth as trophies."

With every word the hole inside Leina grew into a cavern, yawning wide. She still couldn't seem to feel the misery or grief she wanted to, only the same plummeting, ill feeling of jumping from some awful height. The monster that had attacked her, used her, spirited her from her home had as much hand in her life as a God, taking away, taking away.

On a whim Leina made a decision: if she had to live then she'd do so to see the Hunter lose as much as she had. Still, she wasn't quite sure what that _meant_. Above playfights and the odd earnest scrap with Tarron she'd never been prone to violence; it was unlikely she'd be able to attack skekMal, let alone kill him, given the chance. But perhaps some terrible disease would crawl over him, one day, or a frantic prey animal would maim his flesh and she could watch, like the solemn audience of an execution.

Watch until the end of him.

Leina supposed that must have been looking at skekMal strangely for he stalked over and crouched in front of her, seizing her chin in his hand.

"There's that insolent look again," he said.

"I don't mean to, my Lord," said Leina.

Her voice emerged as dry croak, nothing like her own. The Skeksis was so close that she found herself staring into his eyes. They were a strange goldish blue, flat and cold.

"I don't believe you," said skekMal.

He shook her, hard enough to rattle her teeth together. Then abruptly he threw her down again, snorting air through his nose.

"Gah, with eyes like yours who can tell what you're thinking. It's like looking into fog."

Grumbling under his breath, the Hunter disappeared into his tent and returned with a bundle of cloth. He flung it into Leina's lap, looming over her as she shook it out. It was a dress, old and stained.

"Tore it off some prey, many trine ago. I kept it, in case I needed to bandage a wound. Should fit you."

It was unnerving to be offered a dead Gelfling's clothes, but Leina stood, wincing as the pain between her legs throbbed- oh how she had tried to forget that had happened, what he had taken -and pulled the shift down to her knees. There should have been leggings and underwear too, but she would have to do without. At least her body was covered from the Hunter's eyes and she wasn't shivering so much.

"Thank you, my Lord," Leina muttered.

"Ah, shut it. It's no favour. Just keeping you alive, that's all."

There was another lull in conversation while skekMal ate from a slab of meat and drank something that smelled so strongly it burned Leina's eyes from five metres away. Her stomach grumbled painfully, but she didn't dare to ask for food and wouldn't have wanted to, anyway. Who knew _what_ that meat had come from?

"Come over here, Gelfling," said skekMal.

Leina would have happily gnawed her own hand off rather than obey, but hearing the threat ever-present she walked stiffly across to him and hovered nearby. She couldn't help wondering how quickly the Hunter would kill her if she turned and ran from the camp into the dark before shaking the thought away.

"Drink," the Hunter said, and pushed a metal cup against her lips.

The liquid stung her nostrils even as she took a tentative swallow. Leina had sipped alcohol at festivals and celebrations before but nothing this strong, nor so much of it. She spluttered, clutching her throat, but skekMal only tipped the cup further until she was forced to gulp it down.

"Don't be so soft. It's only grog. You'll be begging for it soon, I'd wager. Now eat."

The rind of the meat skekMal had been eating was shoved into her hands. It was too big to be Gelfling, thank Thra, but the idea of eating after every horror she'd been through in the past few hours made Leina feel faint. Aware of the Skeksis fiercely watching her she tried hard to take a bite, and instantly choked.

"I'm sorry, my Lord, I can't."

"Then you'll go hungry. There won't be anything else coming your way until tomorrow night."

Leina felt herself sag in relief.

"Yes, my Lord."

skekMal growled.

"Now get out of my sight. I'm sick of looking at you."

Nodding, Leina scurried back to her place at the other side of the fire and lay down in the grass. She was tired and nauseous, and the drink had made her feel heavy. Despite the horrible thoughts churning in her mind-

_He hurt me, he killed my parents, he killed my brother...._

-she fell asleep almost at once, praying that she wouldn't wake up.

*

skekMal watched the girl sleep across the fire, appraising her tiny features, so like that of another Gelfling female he'd rutted, many trine ago. He'd been able to smell the milky scent of a babe on her and her mate as he'd stalked them, felt the ripeness of the mother's teat as he'd raped her and slit her throat. But no matter how hard he'd combed the woods skekMal had never found their baby.

He'd always suspected it had died, devoured by some other beast. Now he'd found it again he couldn't believe his fortune. A whole family, fallen to his blade- well, eventually so. He'd keep the girl a while, as he had others, in the past.

The hours between hunts could be dull, particularly with most of the other Skeksis secreted in their castle. Not that he could be bothered to speak to the majority of them, when he was in their presence. As long as he'd been hunting he'd kept the occasional captive, from different clans, never too many from each so as to avoid suspicion. Some he kept only a day or so, others unnum, even trine. The latter was rare, for skekMal was easily bored and irritated, and on long hunts slaves always found a way to hinder him.

Besides, he wasn't particularly prone to affection. It was merely that some slaves learned to keep him more entertained than others, or sparked some possessive need to keep them, own them completely.

One by one, they'd all died by his hand, and no other.

All but one.

If only the _other_ Skeksis knew what it was to capture wild quarry and break it in. He supposed any Gelfling _they_ fucked went willingly to some cushioned bedchamber, believing themselves a fortunate class. skekMal spat into the fire, scorning the mere thought of it. He'd kept a Vapran, once, that had gone crazy, thought it _loved_ him, for Thra's sake. Clung and cried when he left it, poured sweet nothings in his ear until he cracked its skull to put it down. No chance of that with _this_ one, at least.

skekMal prowled to her side of the fire to better watch the girl, forgetting his brief agitation with her. He'd noticed her fear grappling with hatred, seen the vast restraint she'd kept over her emotions as he'd taunted her. _This_ was a girl who would cringe at his heel like a beaten dog, the way he wanted her. She was already learning to follow instruction despite her resentment, wasn't she? That was proof enough.

The Hunter sat by the fire until it burned down to cinders and the sky was moonlit. Then he got up, set his mask down inside the tent and looked at the Gelfling, pondering. Bending down he caught her by the waist, feeling her jerk awake and spiral her limbs against him almost at once.

"Don't be so difficult," he said. "I'm not about to hurt you. You are my bedfellow for the night."

skekMal carried her into the tent and threw himself down on his bed roll, pulling the girl's back against him. Her squirming pushed her buttocks into his crotch, and he was immediately hard. _Thra_, how he'd missed the warmth of female flesh on his.

"Little fighter," growled the Hunter. "What can you ever do against me?"

The girl wrenched her head to the side and lunged at his arm, the first violent motion he'd seen from her. skekMal wasn't sure if she'd meant to bite or was simply trying get away, but he didn't like it. He wrapped his arm around her throat and squeezed, making her squawk like a little bird.

"My Lord, please, you're hurting me. I haven't done anything wrong, I-."

"Shut up. If you want to clamour then scream instead. I'm going to fuck you, then you can go back to your dreaming."

The girl fought harder, her legs clenched tightly together. Prising them apart skekMal found her cunt with his fingers, torn from their first roll together only hours ago. He'd forgotten how small Gelfling were, easily split. It didn't matter; it would heal fast enough, and she had other holes to use.

Breathing into the girls' hair he pushed the head of one of his cocks against her arse. She really _did_ scream then, a sound that cut his eardrums like glass. He let her, slamming inside her until her pulsating body was limp in his arms, and then carried on, nipping her delicate shoulderblades with his teeth. Even with no more strength in her body the Gelfling howled into the night, and the Hunter wondered if in her agony she had forgotten how to form words and beg.

When he came inside her he lay awake with her against him, enjoying the sick heat of her crumpled shape. She was awake too; every time he moved she winced. He wondered if she was thinking about killing him and nearly laughed. It was a comical thought, like an angry little butterfly, planning to murder the wind. Soft, helpless thing.

The Hunter was asleep long before she was, and slumbered deep.


	4. The Rope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Irritated by his slave's self-restraint skekMal lays the hapless Gelfling Leina a trap she can't help but fall into...

It was day by the time Leina opened her eyes again, yellow light leaking through the gaps either side of the tent door. She was alone; from the hacking sounds coming from outside skekMal was awake and already going about his business, whatever that might be. With a low moan Leina rolled onto her stomach, trying to find some position on the bed roll that didn't cause her throbbing pain. She stank of skekMal, the Gelfling-like scent of his skin and the salt of his seed inside her. It disgusted her that she'd managed to sleep pressed against him, after what he'd done.

_Fucked_ her. He'd _fucked_ her. That's what he called it.

Leina supposed there were sweeter words for it, when done between those who loved each other, but the sharp, ugly cuss was right for an assault. She swallowed a thick lump in her throat. There had been other young Gelflings, back at the village, whom she'd liked, girls and boys alike; they would never have looked Leina's way, not at a green, blinded squit from Grott, but Leina had often dallied with the fantasy that they might warm to her, one day.

That could never happen now. If they knew she'd lain with a Skeksis they might be jealous of the honour, but then twist the thought to make it seem that she was _desperate_ for skekMal's consort, opening her legs for lack of anything better to offer. That was the way it always was in the village. They would never believe this majestic Lord of the Crystal was the Hunter. They would never know that even now, alone, she felt the phantom memory of his disgusting flesh inside her. 

It made Leina feel ashamed that she hadn't fought harder, although she knew that there was nothing much she could have done. Had he hurt her birth mother like this, before he'd killed her? She supposed that he must have done, after tracking her and Leina's father for hours through dense wood. It was too easy to imagine her mother's screams, her blood painting the tree branches.

Suddenly Leina knew that she had to get away from this monster, no matter what it took. Whether or not she died in the process didn't matter; it was better than waiting through weeks of suffering for a grisly end. It _had_ to be. After all, Salys- her poor, darling adoptive mother -hadn't saved her from the perilous forest for nothing. She would want Leina to live, even if she had to flee so far they never saw each other again.

A snarl outside the tent jerked Leina from her thoughts. She scrambled to sit upright, fear setting her pulse on fire.

"I know you're awake, Gelfling. Drag your lazy hide out here."

Leina looked around the tent, panicking, wondering if she could crawl under a flap of the leathery skin holding it together and slip away. But then the door in front of her was torn aside and through the gap skekMal scowled at her. The difference in mood from the crooning perversion of the night before made Leina nervous; there seemed no way to tell which way he'd turn from one moment the next.

"What's the matter with you? Did I rut the learning out of you? Come."

"A moment, my Lord," she whispered.

The Hunter turned his back, poking something spitted over a revival of last night's fire. More meat, the smell so strong that it made Leina feel ill all over again. Back home her kin ate only a little meat, preferring fruits, bread and other fare. Anything hunted was done so with great respect, something the Hunter lacked. Besides, the air was thick with the scent of Gelfling, and although she couldn't tell whether it was from herself or the meat she knew that, again, she would refuse it. Yet her stomach roared with hunger, and as she crawled, resigned, from the tent she made an effort not to breathe through her nose.

"At last," skekMal grumbled. "You sleep like the dead."

"I... I'm sorry."

"Save your words and open your ears. There are some rules you're bound to follow if you want to keep your life, or at least avoid a beating. You're listening, aren't you, _whore_?"

This last coming sharply, for Leina had her head turned away from him, staring at the green smear of the forest ahead. Amazing how such beauty could still be real, she thought, after everything that had happened within it.

"_Leina_."

The use of her name startled and disturbed her. He must have overheard it while she and Tarron had been playing in the clearing; she'd never uttered it in his earshot, and he had spoken it more than once now.

"Yes, yes, my Lord. I'm listening."

"Right. Then hark this. I'll be gone for some time each day, a few hours here, other days til nightfall. If the hunt is short you'll stay at camp. And you _will_ stay. No trying to escape, no touching things you don't have permission to, no trying to hurt or off yourself. I don't think you have any idea how to do it, but if you so much as scratch that skin of yours I'll hurt you so badly you'll forget you ever wanted pain."

"Yes, my Lord."

How she hated those three words already, so weak and simpering.

"On longer hunts you'll have to travel with me, some of it. You'll keep quiet and out of my way. But mostly you'll wait at camp, where you won't be a distraction. When I come back from a hunt you'll be ready for me. More than likely after a good day I'll want to fuck you. If I tell you I want you silent, you'll hush. If I want you struggling, you will be. Got it?"

Appalled, Leina nodded.

"Good. I'll hold you to your word, little bitch."

Shivering, Leina crossed to her spot at the other side of the fire and turned her back on the Hunter. It was as if he'd read her thoughts, anticipating her every move. Over trine of hunting and keeping Gelfling pets skekMal had probably taken note of every attack or escape attempt possible. He was likely watching for one at this very moment, poised to cut her down if she made a sudden move.

Leina tried to think what the folkheroes in her favourite stories did in similar predicaments. They usually relied on flattery or trickery, lulling nefarious characters into a false sense of security. Would it even be _possible_ to fool skekMal like that? In the stories he'd only been escaped once in a thousand trine, and the details as to how this was achieved were vague at best. Most likely the Skeksis simply hadn't thought that particular hero a worthy hunt, letting them go out of a sheer lack of interest.

Still, this path seemed a far safer option than trying to run away outright. skekMal would never trust or respect her, but if she played the meek and submissive card long and well enough he might believe it enough to let his guard down. _Might_. It was all so uncertain, so exhausting. Leina wasn't even sure that she had the energy for such a gruelling act- how long would it take? Unnum? _Trine_?

She hadn't lied for that long about anything in her whole life- not about anything so serious, at least. On Tithing day she'd once hidden an ornate craving of a Fizzgig Salys had planned to give away as tribute, pretending it had mysteriously disappeared. Leina had denied knowledge of its whereabouts with such cherubic conviction that when it reappeared months later Salys had merely shrugged and forgotten the event completely.

But perhaps if Leina could lie to her _mother_ a Skeksis would be easy. She turned her head and felt skekMal's gaze boring into her, as it always seemed to be.

_No_. Nothing would ever be easy for her again.

*

This Gelfling was one of the cunning ones; skekMal had been right about that. Not a cunning like his own, quick and brutal and beautiful, but the low, desperate kind of youngling prey, thinking itself able to outwit him. He'd heard her mouth-breathing to avoid the stench of her brother's meat, seen the short-sighted glances she gave him from the corners of her milky eyes. Now she was sitting with her back to him, thinking, and as the Hunter knew exactly without dreamfasting what those thoughts might be.

It was as he'd surmised the night before: she needed any idea of fleeing knocked out of her. A pity, for any beating he gave would be long and hard, and she might not be so pretty by the end of it. But she needing properly taming before she grew wily, and thus no use to him.

After eating his fill of the meat skekMal wrapped the rest for later and rustled through the bloodstained sack for the Gelfling boys' foot, from which he snapped a bone. Though hardly formidable the child had been young and fast, qualities the Hunter hoped to glean from his totem. He hooked it onto his back amongst his other trophies, rattling the bones together so the half-blind girl would hear. Her small face scrunched with apprehension.

"Stand up, girl," skekMal said. "I'm going to gather firewood. You're staying here, out from under my feet."

Carefully the Gelfling rose, and waited as skekMal approached. She was paler than yesterday, ill-looking. Not a strong specimen, for all her quiet scheming. skekMal took a pile of rope from his things and bound it around the girl's throat, like a leash. The other end he wrapped around a tree branch, knotting it tight.

"There. If you pull you'll choke, so I wouldn't, if I were you. Behave yourself, Youngling, eh?"

"Yes."

No prissy 'my lord' now. The girl was humiliated, tied like the little dog she was. She jumped violently as the Hunter gripped her jaw in his hand, squeezing a little. Her head was like a fruit, soft, so easy to crush, but he let her go with only a bead of pink blood to mark his touch. He strode off into the woods, creeping round in a circle the way he had the day before, the way he'd fooled her.

Leina couldn't see much more than a foot ahead of her, the Hunter guessed, maybe less. A few minutes after skekMal had appeared to leave the girl, as expected, groped the rope around her neck, running her thin fingers around it in seek of space to pull it loose. She, of course, found none. Nor did she find one on the tree branch; skekMal chuckled as she jumped on tiptoe to grasp it, grazing her fingers on the coarse rope. She'd already broken some of his rules, the way every captive did, which was enough to punish her for. But it would entertain him to see how far she'd dare to go.

Wheezing, the girl dropped to her haunches, her small breasts rising and falling. Her white hair was filthy and wringing with sweat, her legs caked with dried runnels of blood. It pleased the Hunter to see his handiwork, eating away her clean, Gelfling purity.

skekMal watched the girl squint up at the branch again, then flutter her wings. From her clumsy racketing around the woods the day before the Hunter knew how badly she flew, and how little she wished to rely on doing so. This, too, was good. He'd had to clip a Gelfing's wings, once, and torn off those of another in a fit of bloodlust, and as delicious as that had been the utter heartbreak of losing such a precious limb had driven both parties insane. Better to avoid that, if he could.

The girl had apparently plucked up enough courage to at least try for she beat her wings and soared upwards, yanking the branch the rope was tied to. She kept her hands braced on the noose to stop it hurting her, veins in her temples straining as her minute body lunged and lunged at the rope. The branch was sturdy, but she pulled so aggressively that, for moment, skekMal wondered if it might break. Of course, it didn't, and the girl was only left straining and gasping at the end like a little fish on a line.

At last the Gelfing came down to the ground again, her whole body quaking. The Hunter admired the ferocity of her struggle, the lively spirit still within her despite her grief. She'd been a worthy find, not merely a weak vessel for his cock. Even so, once he'd gathered an armful of dry wood he slunk up behind the girl, one bough raised high, and struck her across her lower back, winding her. She crumpled to her knees, gasping against the noose. Using the blade he'd used to cleave the wood skekMal cut the rope and reeled the girl in, hitting her again across the shoulder as she raised her hands to placate him.

"Please, my Lord, I've done nothing, I..."

"I saw you, you lying bitch. You tried to escape. Don't make up any excuses, your sweet-talk won't touch me."

He jabbed her in the stomach, making her gurgle in pain and spit bile onto the grass. Her weakness irritated him. She hadn't eaten in a day, of course, and had worn herself out with flying, but he wanted her to rally against him or at least fall, weeping, at his feet. Oh, the screams and pleading were fine, but it felt hollow. Restrained. It drove him into a frenzy.

He hit her face, forcing blood from her squealing mouth, struck her knees so she crumpled in a small, pathetic heap. Her breathing came in short, high-pitched screams, but still she wouldn't _fucking_ cry. She crawled on her hands and knees, begging forgiveness, and he leered down at her in distaste.

"Filth," he said. "This is a damned mercy compared to what I could do you. You think I spared your runt of a mother? Your father? Not half. Want me to tell you how I gutted them? I hung up their entrails and snapped their bones. I watched them steam in the cold."

"I don't want to know!"

"No? As I thought. Then what foolishness made you disobey me? Speak truth. I am curious."

The Gelfling raised her head, painted with a mask of her own blood, and trained her foggy eyes on his. The Hunter was surprised when she spoke earnestly, emotionally. As if he would _care_.

"How could I not? This is _wrong_. Forgive me, my Lord, but I have always served the Skeksis willingly. With love and honour. If you had wanted a companion you could have asked and I'd have come gladly. But this... it's the worst thing that's ever happened to me. It's like a terrible dream."

skekMal spat into the grass.

"It's no dream. Your kind have been living some pointless fantasy for many trine. How many times must I tell you, idiot? The other _Lords_ are no kinder than I am. I'll take you to the castle of the Crystal, if it will open your blind little eyes. You might be glad that you're _my_ pet and not theirs."

She didn't believe him, that much was evident. No matter. She'd get a shock when she saw how base and greedy his brethren were, the filthy habits extended in their private chambers. It may not have occurred to them to keep servants by force, as he did, but having the same tastes no doubt a few Gelfing had... _vanished_ in their keep. Flesh ruined, dessicated in the Scientist's laboratory, remains destroyed.

skekMal had seen himself how thieves and so-called treasonous prisoners punished, and it only remained a secret because the Skeksis were worshipped, and somewhat discrete. Any survivors of their cruelty held their tongues, bearing the weight of their suffering in the belief that they deserved it.

If there was anything the Hunter admired of his siblings it was their ability to dominate without getting off their fat arses for more than a minute or two.

The girl was still cringing in front of him, spitting blood from time to time. She truly looked disgusting.

"I won't have you dragging your mess around camp."

He grabbed the girl by the scruff of the neck and carried her a short distance through the woods, ignoring her squeaks of resistance. She seemed to realise that he wasn't intending to beat her to death for she didn't fight particularly hard, nor for long. The Hunter stopped at the edge of a small lake, one he often went to himself to wash his modest collection of worldly possessions. It didn't do to stink of blood; it gave one away too clearly to prey.

"Wash yourself," he growled at the girl, and dumped her unceremoniously into the shallow water.

With slow, pained motions she stood, touching the places he had hit her with the fingertips. She was already bruising violet, and her face was caked with gore. Using her hands to cup the water she splashed herself, sucking in short breaths as the cold shocked her. Watching the dirty dress cling to her small body the Hunter felt his cocks grow hard again. This time he turned away, thinking idly how good it would feel to fuck her while holding her head under the water until her kicking limbs stilled.


	5. Games

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> skekMal and his captive Gelfling are both playing games with each other, and there can only be one loser

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This little community is growing!!! Really excited to see some great fics appearing in the Dark Crystal section now! :)
> 
> As for this fic- I'm getting a little more prosey now, which feels right now I have the two chatacters' POV fairly established. Thoroughly enjoying planning out the next chapters!

For the rest of the day the Hunter did not speak to Leina, nor seemed to notice her presence much at all. She lay in the tent on their shared bedroll, her eyes closed, reading the dark under her eyelids. It was what she'd done back home when she couldn't sleep, remembering the words of her treasured stories. How false they rang now, like promises to a dying Gelfling. Still there was nothing else to do, and besides the pain engulfing so much of her small body made it difficult to move.

skekMal had been in and out of camp many times, adding wood to his fire, tracking the scent of his next hunt, preparing his arsenal of blades. He moved quickly and quietly, but every clink of metal and bone drove deep into Leina's nerves. She put her hands over her ears, cushioning her skull with silence. Everything hurt less if she pretended to be alone. If, for a moment, she forgot her own ugly world.

That moment was so very brief.

In the quiet dark Leina held imaginary conversations with Salys and Tarron, even her birth parents, who she'd never known. She told them all how deeply she loved them, that she was sorry. That she hoped Thra had the claimed their souls and that Salys, when her time came, would follow, but that her life would be strong and sweet despite its sorrow. It was the only funeral rite Leina's dear ones were likely to have, at least from someone who knew the truth of their collective fate.

Leina held another quiet ritual, later, when skekMal ordered her from the tent to eat. The cold meat he clapped into her hands smelled so pungently of Gelfling that a thick, black, wordless clamour of horror engulfed her. In that black she heard the snip of the Hunters blades sloughing her brother's flesh from his spine, felt the sudden awfulness of his death like a thunderbolt. Then she gathered herself, went to her place opposite skekMal and waited until he was occupied before digging a hole in the dirt to bury the slither of flesh inside.

It was a grave, that hole, perhaps the smallest in the world. Fitting, considering how little Leina was able to grieve. She couldn't allow herself to dwell on thoughts of her old life or escaping any longer; it had been stupid to try, to fall for what had so obviously been a cruel ruse. After all her planning she had _still_ done it- but no more.

Leina smoothed grass down over the grave, trying to make it look untouched. Her fingers were still wet with her brother's blood; she wanted to scrub them clean but the howling hunger wouldn't let her. She shoved them into her mouth and suckled, as if on a teat, drool running down over her chin. skekMal raised his head, and she heard him growl in amusement.

_You think you've ruined me_, she thought. _But I'm still here. That's your weakness, letting me live, being so arrogant. And you don't even know it. _

It was true. She felt it. But it made her feel no better.

"Tell me, Gelfling," said skekMal, abruptly. "Were you always blind?"

_Why must he taunt me?_ _Why isn't_ fucking _me enough?_

"I think so, my Lord. And at least I can see things that are close to me. The rest... just colours, shapes. I can guess what something might be but I... I'm wrong, sometimes."

"Explain."

He didn't really _care_. Of course not. He was merely feeling her for weak spots, anything that hurt.

"Well, my Lord, for example I can barely see you at all. Only a darker thing against the lighter dark of the trees. You could be happy or angry and I'd never know, except from your voice. But that's what I'm used to."

"Then come closer. I want you to see me."

"But I..."

"Closer."

Power, power, it was always about power, with him. Leina stood before the Hunter, flinching as he raised a hand. She wasn't sure she could take another beating so soon; her skull, back, and knees were still pounding.

"Look," said skekMal.

Quietly, Leina obeyed. She ran her eyes over his leather and bone plated armour, the sumptuous red velvet cloak and scarlet rope harnessing weapons to his greyish skin. Eyes, dark and brooding, a pinkly open mouth riddled with tiny, sharp teeth. skekMal was strange and fearsome and opulent, so different to the other Skeksis, and yet-

Alike.

"What it is you want me to see, my Lord?"

"The one who _owns_ you, dolt. Your flesh and your life."

"I... I see," said Leina.

She had no interest in his games, but if he was in a playing mood she'd attempt a move.

"May I ask you a question, my Lord?"

The Hunter, who had been staring into her face in gloating silence, seemed startled.

"Depends. I don't owe you any answers."

"You're right, my Lord. But... if it doesn't offend you... I'd like to know _why_ you hunt."

skekMal grunted and rolled his shoulders, their joints clicking.

"It's all that matters to me. The thrill of chasing worthy prey, the triumph of catching it. I've rarely lost a target. It keeps me alive, and gives me pleasure. I don't need to breathe vapours or gorge myself like the others. Just the hunt."

It was the answer she'd expected, but the pointlessness of the whole hideous cycle made Leina want to scream. Instead her small, falsely servile voice prattled on.

"But if you must hunt again and again to feel joy, then why _keep_ me, my Lord? Why do you need _me_? Why not hunt someone else?"

Leina had guessed why: convenience and amusement, but she didn't care about the answer. She only wanted to test how far skekMal was willing to be pushed before he snapped at her.

"Don't give me reasons to kill you," the Hunter muttered, although he sounded more amused than irritated. "Besides, your cunt is wet and warm; the nights are cold. That tell you what you wanted to hear?"

Again, it was all she had expected. She turned from him, and limped back to the tent.

*

Over the following days skekMal kept his distance from the Gelfling, addressing her only when he was bored or to make her eat a little. He was in the middle of tracking a large predator, and thus hadn't the time or interest in persuing her. Once or twice they packed up camp and walked for miles through the woods, the girl barely able to keep up with even his slowest strides. But she was learning. She'd broken a tree branch to use as a cane, feeling the floor ahead of her for anything that might disturb her footing. It made the Hunter laugh, reminding him of Aughra and her infamous staff- _Thra_, it had been trine since he'd seen the old bat. He almost missed her.

The injuries the girl had gotten from her beatings and the rapes were healing quickly, skekMal noticed, although she looked thinner and greyer by the day. She wasn't eating. Even when her brother's flesh was gone the Gelfling could barely finish even the smallest morsel, chewing a bite before burying or throwing away the rest. skekMal had made her dig it up, once or twice, and eat it covered in soil, but the retching and dramatics quickly wore on him. It wasn't meat that was the problem, either; one afternoon skekMal grudgingly brought the girl a bushel of berries and mushrooms, those he knew from trying times were edible. _Still_ the Gelfling wouldn't eat, even under threat of a beating.

Strange, that.

The Hunter could sense the crazed tenacity of the girl's hunger and yet she sat with such curious restraint, picking apart a shelf of fungus til it fell to crumbs. She even did it when she thought herself alone, rocking backwards and forwards in torment over a single bite. Yet there was a gleam of longing in her eyes whenever food was present or even discussed, and it was this that led the Hunter to understand that she was... _sick_. A queer, wily illness, one the girl seemed aware of and, at the same time, quite ignorant.

It fascinated him.

This starving game was her last and only resistance, for in all other ways the girl was meek and pliant. She rarely spoke unless addressed, and had made no complaint about the many blistering hours of walking in her single flimsy pair of shoes. Nor did she make another escape attempt; skekMal watched her for two hours, once, and she only lay curled in a ball, whispering. His keen hearing had picked out a lot of it, though not much made sense.

_"...He was the most adventurous of Gelfling, but though he travelled many miles and many lands his home was his favourite place of all..." _

_Stories_. She was telling herself stories. Again he marvelled at how like a child she was, in her mind, though child she was not. It was the way of Gelfling, all innocence and naivety; it was how the Skeksis had taken them so easily under their reign.

On the seventh day, after skekMal's long hunt had ended and the predator's bloody jawbone was praised from its caved skull he decided to fuck the Gelfling again. But first she had to eat. _Really_ eat. Her ribcage had drawn in and her shoulderblades were almost like another pair of wings, and she'd never been sturdy to begin with.

skekMal didn't call Leina across the fire, as he usually did to get her attention. Instead he waited until her head was lolling with sleep and pounced on her, the force sending them both rolling across the camp like a pair of younglings barelling down a hill.

"Gelfling," roared the Hunter. "You're starving yourself. I've kept my eye on you. Is this how you intend to escape me? Death?"

She bleated at him, something about not meaning to, that she couldn't help it. There was a note of panic there that made skekMal believe her, but he beat her anyway, cuffing her head back and forth.

"You'll eat from my kill. I'll watch you swallow. And if you don't learn I'll slit your throat. I have no patience for broken creatures."

The girl protested as skekMal sawed a handful of raw flesh from his quarry and thrust it between her lips. She fought him, spitting and begging, but her strength was nothing against his. He felt her fragile limbs twist against his immovable bulk, the warmth of her inner thighs. The sucking heat of her mouth on his taloned fingers as her thrust them down her throat. He squeezed her neck, forcing her to swallow. She sputtered and heaved but the meat stayed down.

A single tear tracked the girl's left cheek, like a jewel. Whether from pain or misery skekMal didn't know, or care. It only excited him, knowing he'd achieved his goal at last.

He hiked the up the girl's dress and buried his beak between her legs, his tongue filling her tight wetness in an instant. The Hunter felt her tiny fists hammer his shoulders, but ignored them. The girl tasted good, of female musk and blood. He lapped at the little whorls of flesh he knew were sensitive, making the girl buck and kick in frightened indignation. She didn't want pleasure from him, any more than she wanted pain.

_Good_. He'd give her both.

The girl's little fingernails digging between his armour spurred him, the sharpness of them a delicious point of pain. He slid two talons inside her and moved them as he licked her and then-

The girl convulsed, her cunt squeezing around his fingers. skekMal ran his tongue through her juices hungrily, basking in the abandon of her screams. When he looked up at her he saw her grey eyes were awash with tears, and the ripple of triumph that ran through him was almost as good as achieving the hunt.

He dragged himself up onto her body and pushed his tongue between her lips, as he'd done with his fingers before.

"Ashamed of yourself, weakling? That's your mess you taste."

"Please leave me alone."

Oh, it was glorious to hear the sobs in her voice. skekMal pushed himself inside her with one rough thrust and stared down at her perfect, miserable little face. It would almost be a shame when he eventually killed her.

Afterwards the Hunter walked into the woods, patrolling the perimeter of his camp in the midst of thought. He contemplated how long it would take to reach the castle- a day or so, at most, from his prediction -and what gripes he'd raise with the Scientist regarding the experiments on the land. _Thra_, he'd go straight to the Emperor; as pompous as skekSo could be he could at least command the mad doctor to stop tainting the Hunter's prey. 

As he walked skekMal caught a foreign scent in the grass- _Gelfling_, but not his pet. There was no reason for Gelfling to stray so deep into the woods unless lost, or purposely looking for something.

Or _someone_.

skekMal plucked a handful of grass and sniffed. He could track the Gelfling, if he wanted to, cut their throats before they ever found his camp. But he had to be careful. Too many dead would raise suspicion. He would have to make them leave in other ways.

He could use the girl.


	6. Loyalty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> skekMal enforces more rules onto the captive Gelfling Leina- will she be able to follow?

Leina sprawled in the grass where skekMal had left her, trying to slow her ragged breathing. This time no story could calm her; she could barely string a sentence together, even in her mind.

With shaking fingers Leina touched herself between her legs, felt the Hunter's seed and her own wetness. Hastily she wiped her hand on the grass, wanting to forget. It made sense that another touching her in the same places she touched herself at night would make her come, but she was ashamed of it, and helplessly angry. Another loss, this time of something that had always been private, her own. The Hunter seemed to find new ways to humiliate her by the day, and she knew from the look of triumph in his hard eyes that he would never stop.

Slowly Leina sat up, still breathing hard, and dried her face on her sleeve. She hadn't been able to shed a single tear for Tarron or her birth parents, but for herself-

_Selfish. Selfish._

A nearby patch of trees rustled and skekMal emerged, snarling.

"Make yourself useful, girl. We're moving."

The Hunter tore down the tent and began bundling it and the bedroll up into a bag, grunting under his breath. His agitation was sudden, even unusual; after hurting her he was usually in a smug state of almost calm.

"What are you still _there_ for? Get off your useless rump. I don't want any trouble from you; it's on _your_ account we're leaving."

"What... what do you _mean_, my Lord? I haven't done anything wrong."

Swift as a coiling serpent the Hunter swerved away from his packing and yanked Leina into the air by one ear.

"What will it take for you to shift the _first_ time I ask you? Stop jibbering and get to work."

He cast Leina aside and continued throwing his possessions together, putting out the fire with an aggressive scuff of his heel. Leina hastened to assist him, wary of another spurt of violence, but the ache between her thighs made her clumsy. While attempting to wrap a blade her knees buckled and she nicked her finger- only a little, but enough for the Hunter to roar and snatch the thing out of her hands.

"What's the point in keeping a dog that can't make itself useful?"

"I'm trying, my Lord," said Leina, through her teeth. "But I'm... hurting."

That single word made her cringe.

skekMal looked equally disgusted, shoving her in the chest until she almost fell down again.

"What, you mean from our little roll an hour ago? That was nothing. You even liked some of it. Keep whining at me and I'll use all three cocks on you. Rape you til you scream for your dead mother. Hear me?"

Leina nodded frantically but all she could think was: _rape_. _That's the true word for the awful things he does to me. Now I know._

They finished packing in under ten minutes, then immediately set out into the wood. It was growing dark now, but skekMal strode as comfortably as if in full daylight. Leina did her best to follow, but she was completely without sight now and didn't know the route they were taking. She didn't make a sound when she tripped or bumped into a tree trunk, and for a while skekMal didn't seem to notice. Then after fifteen minutes of walking he turned abruptly and hoisted Leina onto his back without saying a word. She felt skulls and bone dig into her underbelly, the heat of skekMal's flesh rolling out in waves.

How many of these bones were from Gelfling?

After another hour of travelling skekMal stopped in a small, concealed clearing and shook Leina off his shoulders. She managed to land on her feet, her balance only a little precarious. The Hunter, glancing at her, made a low huffing sound. Only when he began to unload his possessions alone did Leina realise it had been approving. Of course; he _wanted_ her well-trained, did he not?

The night passed without much event. For the first time since taking Leina skekMal went to sleep outside the tent, under the stars, jolting awake at the slightest suspicious sound to sniff the air and scowl into the trees. She watched him through a gap in the tent, trying to guess what had happened on his walk to unsettle him. What he'd meant by 'your account'.

When she awoke the following morning skekMal was already awake, dressed with his weapons for one of his forest walks. He oversaw Leina's morning meal closely, no doubt trying to assess whether she'd learned her lesson or not. Every bite filled her with intense anxiety and a sense of failure. It was _wrong_ to eat his food, to grow fat on it like a beloved pet. She was certain even from this meal she could feel her stomach swelling, her cheeks bloating with weight. Yet she chewed and swallowed, chewed and swallowed. Her jaws ached from the effort.

"At last, slow-worm," said skekMal. "I thought a trine would pass before you finished."

"I'm sorry, my Lord."

"Gah. Hold your pretty manners. I'm going to test your loyalty today."

Leina felt herself stiffen.

"In... what way, my Lord?"

"I'm going to leave you unleashed. See if you can resist your stupid Gelfling nature and stay where I ask you to."

"You know I will, my Lord."

This was another game, it had to be. Leina couldn't imagine why else he'd do such a thing, particularly when he seemed so aggravated by the notion of her slipping away.

"You speak too soon, slave. If any creature approaches you while I'm gone you'll say nothing of who or what I am. Got that? Not a word."

Leina nodded. A flutter of hope sprang up in her belly.

"But... my Lord... what kind of creature in the forest could possibly talk to me?"

They both knew. skekMal moved closer to her, so close she had to lean back to avoid being scratched by the edges of his mask. His eyes narrowed.

"You know better than to devise any sort of plan against me, Leina."

He ran a finger across her cheek, raising a thin line of blood. Leina shook her head, dislodging his hand.

"I'll give you something to do while I'm gone, if you're not too blind to manage it."

The Hunter went to one of his bags, shifted through it then threw a bundle into Leina's lap. She turned it over in her hands. It was an undervest with a hole in it, half-sewn together with thick thread and a needle made of bone.

"Needlework is woman's fare," said skekMal. "Ought to keep you quiet. Get it done."

"Yes, my Lord."

With that he was gone, marching away into the trees. The departure seemed all too sudden, and Leina didn't trust it. No doubt the Hunter was watching her from a distance, his cruel, hungry beak grinning in anticipation of an excuse to beat her black and blue.

_Deplorable beast. _

For lack of anything else to do Leina took up the needle and thread and tried her hand at sewing. It was slow, tedious work, for although she could see it well enough her fingers were awkward and clumsy. She stabbed herself several times with the needle, and at last shrieked in irritation before throwing the undershirt aside. Only imagining the blows she'd receive if it remained unfinished spurred her to pick it up again.

With every stitch Leina became more angry and resentful. She pictured herself strangling skekMal in the night, driving a blade into his heart as he fucked her, graphic images that shocked her as they surfaced but that kept coming, regardless. None of it was really _her_, at least; Gelfling weren't murderers, not like the Hunter. Even so a grim thrill of joy pulsed through her with each grisly scene, terrible but undeniable.

It only stopped when she heard a voice in the woods.

"Leina? Dear one, are you here?"

_Salys_.

Leina dropped her finished sewing and scrambled upright, skinning her knees in her hurry. She turned her head frantically right and left, agonising over her inability to see anything but the indistinct smear of the tree line.

"Mum? Where are you?"

"I'm here, don't go anywhere, I'm coming!"

A small figure burst into the camp, stopping a few metres away, as if afraid to come too close. Although too far for her features to be clear Leina recognised the pile of dark hair, the scent of cloves and baking. She opened her mouth to say something and only let out a broken caw.

"Leina, what's _happened_ to you? And Tarron? I've spent all week looking for you both, we all have."

"How... did you find me?" Leina whispered.

"Megla, one of our trackers, offered to help me. She's waiting in the woods. I told her to stay back. She... well, a lot of the villagers are upset with you. They think you took Tarron away, and hurt him."

Pain twisted deep in Leina's chest.

"I didn't, Mama. You _know_ I'd never hurt him. He was my best friend in the world. The only one, really. I tried to save him."

She heard Salys suck in a breath.

"What do you _mean_, Leina? Was he... is he..."

Leina put her hands over her face. Again she couldn't cry, and she knew how wrong it must look.

"Something attacked us both in the woods. It... it killed him, but spared me. I can't say any more without putting us both in danger. Please forgive me, Mama, I tried. But he's gone."

Salys stepped forward, outstretching her hands for Leina's own. They trembled wildly.

"Show me. I need to see. You don't have to say another word, just dreamfast."

The need to grasp those hands tight was overwhelming. It would be so easy, over in seconds. She could fall into her mother's arms and let her guide her home.

Then she felt it. His presence. The Hunter.

He made no noise, nor did she see him. But Leina knew he was there, the dark, forbidding weight of him observing every moment. She could have collapsed in defeat. Instead she wrapped her arms around her body and shook her head.

"I can't. I'm sorry. It's too dangerous."

"I don't understand," said Salys, softly.

She gazed around the camp in discomfort, seemingly taking it in for the first time.

"Are you _living_ with the creature that murdered Tarron? What kind of monster is it? I can smell death here."

"I can't say," Leina murmured. "You have to go, Mama. I'm sorry. Tell the others I ran away, if you have to, but just leave here, and don't try to find me again. I don't want you to get hurt too."

Her back was crawling with awareness of the Hunter listening, his predatory eyes fixed upon her. She wanted nothing more than to scream, but didn't dare.

"Please, Leina, I'm frightened for you," said Salys.

Her voice was strained with grief and panic. Leina ran her hands through her hair over and over. This might be the last time she ever saw her mother, and she had no choice but to waste it.

"Please, Leina," Salys continued, urgently. "You're my daughter. I need you to come home with me, please. I love you."

"I love you too," Leina whispered. "But I can't. You have to go. I'll be alright. Please go. I'm sorry."

As if she couldn't hear the words being spoken Salys edged forward, taking Leina by the shoulders. Up close her face was creased with lines of worry, lines that hadn't been there before. For a moment Leina let herself be held, savouring Salys' comforting warmth. Then she pushed her away, making her stumble.

"_Go_! Please, please go! Far from here! You have to listen to me, Mama! Please!"

Salys must have sensed Leina's desperation for she nodded, her little body crumpling in miserable resignation. She mumbled something about waiting for Leina, but it was so incoherent it might only have been a sob. Then she turned to the forest and ran, leaving Leina clutching her heart in bittersweet relief.

"Good girl."

SkekMal skulked out of the trees, his shoulders strung with small, hairy animals he'd taken on his jaunt. He patted Leina on the head, and she ducked away, fists clenched.

"I would have told her everything," she said, coldly. "I would have run away with her, if I didn't think you'd kill her. I did this for _her_, not for loyalty. Not for you."

"Doesn't matter," sneered skekMal. "All ends the same. I could've followed her, tore her broken heart through her ribcage. But did I?"

"No," said Leina. "But I'll bet it wasn't out of kindness."

"You know me too well, Gelfling," said the Hunter.

He slapped his kills onto the ground by the fire and sat down, pulling Leina towards him. She dragged her fingers in the dirt, trapping filth under her nails. The Skeksis reached under her dress, pushed a finger into each of her holes.

"Now for your reward," he said. "For being so obedient."

Leina bit the inside of her cheek and swallowed, as if the motion could temper the cacophony of her emotions.

It could not.


	7. Woman's Work

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> skekMal gives his Gelfling pet a near impossible task

skekMal had rarely had such control over his prey as he did now with the blind Gelfling. Orphaned her, poisoned her village against her, cut her from the Stonewood hag she called mother- Leina must have been the loneliest creature on Thra, by now. He felt the melancholy on her, heavy as wet leather, and smothering.

It had been pleasant, dragging a dagger of sorrow through her heart, for a time, but now she could barely raise her head when he called her. Loss, too, could kill a Gelfling; their hearts were soft, all too liable to cease. He would have to watch her for that.

"You're sulking, Gelfling," he snapped, hoping to rouse the girl from her doldrums. "It's pitiful to watch you. You're _alive_, aren't you?"

The girl nodded pathetically. It had been an hour since he'd last fucked her, and she no longer looked quite so tempting, her braided hair matted at the back like a Podling woman's.

"Then why whimper over those who are dead, or gone?"

"Because I loved my family," the Gelfing said, quietly. "They were everything to me."

"And now they are nothing."

"No. They're still everything."

_Was_ it melancholy he sensed in the girl? Or _another_ kind of dark silence? That same lurking anger he'd noticed before, restrained so tightly as to be unrecognisable. Perhaps he _should_ have killed that Stonewood Gelfling, just to test the depths of it. The only reason he hadn't was the need to avoid bringing attention to himself and Skeksis kind; if _he_ had his way he'd hunt with abandon, seeding the forest with blood.

"Don't argue with me, youngling," said skekMal. "I did you a favour, cutting you loose from that scum. There's no greater honour than attending to a great Hunter. Skeksis. You will come to thank me."

No retort, this time, although the girl's ears twitched as if she was biting one back.

"Would you rather be _dead_, like the others, Gelfing?"

"No."

She glanced at him, quickly, her milky eyes narrowing.

"My Lord," the girl added.

"Clever," said the Hunter. "But you won't win my favour with titles."

The girl began fiddling with the sewing he'd given her, pulling a knot of the thread. She'd done a rough job of it, not much better than his own handiwork, which he mostly reserved for patching wounds from difficult hunts. But at least she'd proved capable; some slaves with better eyes than she had earned an early end through their incompetence.

"Answer me this, then," said the Hunter. "Are you afraid of dying?"

Although the Gelfling didn't look up from her needlework he sensed her tensing at the question.

_Good._

"I don't know, my Lord. Dying is to be at one with Thra, an honour. But I... I'm afraid of the pain."

"Such honesty. I'll keep that in mind next time you need putting in your place."

It was entertaining to tease her, put the thought of unimaginable torture into her head. But it was little more than idle sport; he wouldn't hurt her more than she'd earned, or he desired to. There were Skeksis far nastier than him on that account- the Scientist would gleefully plunge corrosive chemicals into her veins, skekNa would whip her to the bone. skekMal barely had enough time in the day to rut the girl, let alone cripple her with additional torment. Fickle pleasures should never become all-consuming, the others would do well to learn-

_The others_.

The Hunter had already told the girl he'd take her to the Castle, show her the ugliness of her false religion. Why not now? They would have to move the camp anyway since the Stonewood bitch had seen it, so it was no skin off skekMal's back to make an unplanned visit to his slovenous brothers.

They had much to discuss, after all.

*

Packing the camp up again so soon made Leina anxious, although she said nothing aloud. The Hunter had snarled something about going to the Castle of the Crystal, which she had visited a few times with her mother, when she was small, often to bring baked delicacies to the Gourmand. But she'd stopped attending when a guard had objected to Leina's presence, heavily hinting that a Grottan was not fit to walk amongst their Lords. Even in back passages and kitchens, out of sight.

The Lords themselves, however, had never uttered any such thing, nor would they, if their rumoured generous nature was the truth. Even now Leina believed in it, was _certain_ of it, no matter what nastiness the Hunter barked about them. He was spiteful enough to tell any number of lies, the more painful the better.

Perhaps the other Skeksis would be _kind_ to her, even take pity on her. She could try appealing to them; perhaps they would release her from her enslavement, or at least demand the Hunter be gentler to her. Not that he would listen. She could feel him staring at her as she put away his possessions. He must think her ruined by now, a tottering doll; he'd no idea what private rites she'd practised to fold away her grief, to want to live.

"You'll need cleaning up, Gelfling," said the Hunter. "You'll stick out like a sore thumb at the castle, looking like that."

"Like _what_, my Lord?"

_Grottan_, she thought. _Filthy, green, Grottan slut._ _Go on and say it._

"Like a dug-up turnip," skekMal sneered. "I don't care much for fancies, but my brethren are vain creatures. You'll be thrown out of a window if you don't suit their liking."

"It can't be helped, my Lord," said Leina, softly. "This is the only dress I have, and the other-"

She stopped, closing her eyes over the memory. skekMal growled.

"Oh yes, I remember. Cut it from you, didn't I, not so long ago. Poor little pet."

Leina heard the thickening of lust in his voice, but he didn't approach her, thank Thra, merely watched her struggle with his heavy weaponry.

"It'll take two days to reach the castle through with you hampering my stride," said the Hunter. "That's time enough. Don't waste it."

"Enough for _what_, my Lord?"

"Think for yourself, little fool."

The Hunter got up, growling through his teeth, and shoved past her, throwing the last of his bags onto his back.

"Oh. You mean... you want me to _make_ clothes? I'd barely know how to start, my Lord, I'd be no good..."

Another growl, impatient now. She took the warning.

"As you wish, my Lord."

For the next few days she worked whenever the Hunter allowed them rest from walking, tearing furs and old sacking to make something like the uniforms she'd seen Gelfling attendants wear at the castle before. There had been less of them than Podlings, but enough for her to stare and envy them for living so close to their Lords. It should have been simple to emulate their dress, nothing more than a few loose robes and trousers, but before the Hunter had taken her she'd barely darned a sock, let alone a garment.

But she had to. She _had_ to.

Leina toiled til her hands were beaded all over with pinpoints of blood, til she was muttering the same foul words the Hunter used against her, til even held a millimetre from her eye the stitches blurred to indistinction.

"We'll reach the castle by morning," skekMal said. "Not done by then? You're not coming in. I'll leave you tied up in the woods like the simple pet you are."

His tone was brusque, yet somehow teasing; he must know how dearly she wanted to meet the other Skeksis. Leina ignored him, keeping her expression just meek enough that he couldn't find fault with her. When at last the clothing was finished it was almost nightfall, and her eyes burned from squinting for so long. She knelt, running her fingers over it in silence. It wasn't _good_, by any means, but it would do.

"We passed a river just before we set up camp, my Lord," said Leina. "May I wash in it? I don't want to ruin my clothes."

"If you must."

The Hunter followed as she crossed the riverbank, unbraiding her hair as she went. She crouched in the shallows, washed with her back to skekMal, as she had in the lake. Although he had seen all of her she refused to let him gawp at any more of her than was necessary, although he only appeared bored by her now. She washed and wrung out her knotted hair, rebraided it so it fell in damp, silvery tails over her shoulders. There were wildflowers growing by the bank; she plucked a few, pressed them to her wrists and throat like a perfume. Then at last she dressed, pulling the thick, strange fabric onto her body.

Leina looked at her reflection in the river. It was difficult to know what to think. She'd never considered herself pretty, even by Grottan standards, of which she knew little. She'd always insisted to herself that looks didn't matter, only family and learning to run her little house, and other plain distractions. Besides, Leina didn't trust her eyes, which perceived so little. But what she saw now was enough to know that there _was_ something beautiful about her, a useless thought, she supposed.

"Let me see you, Gelfling."

Leina gasped; for a moment she'd forgotten that the Hunter was there. She was used to this kind of summoning but it felt different now, more menacing.

A threat.

"So," the Hunter said, circling her. "This is how much you preen for my brethren."

His motions were almost liquid fast, dizzying her.

"I did as you asked, my Lord," said Leina.

"Lies. I said to _clothe_ yourself; the rest is your doing. You scented yourself like a whore."

"_No_, my Lord."

Close. He was so close that his cloak swung against her as he walked, as he loomed down over her.

"Yes. Thinking of making _friends_ at the castle are you? Or lovers?"

Was he _jealous_? No, not as ordinary people were, of each other, but of inanimate things they loathed to share. Besides, he was mocking her through it; they both knew no Lord would take her as a lover. She wasn't _that_ even to him.

"I'm trying to make a good impression, my Lord," Leina said. "That's all."

skekMal reached out and lifted a chunk of Leina's still-wet, braided hair and pulled it towards him, running it through his clawed hand. He yanked it, and pulled her against his torso.

"Whore," he crooned. "And they'll think as much of you."

His hardness forced at her, and weakly Leina pushed him away.

"Let me take my clothes off, my Lord. I don't want to spoil them."

"Eager, are you?" he commented as she folded the garments away.

How pointless to have hidden herself, before. She stood upright, shaking, wishing she had the power to strike him.

"Why _would_ I be? I don't want you."

The Hunter struck her across the face, knocking her down onto the riverbank. She smelled blood before she tasted it.

"I don't care what you want, little cave rat."

The Hunter surged over her, his claws scoring her body, marking her. He bit her breast, her stomach, her pubic mound, drawing blood, then fumbled to unleash his cocks. Two he pushed between the thighs, to the same hole, and she fought him knowing they wouldn't fit. He knew it, too, but he shoved so aggressively that her brain sang with a white thread of pain, and she could see and hear nothing. Then there was only one, only one inside her, but it rammed her over and over until she screamed at him to stop.

The Hunter's fist was in her hair, twisting her braids close to her scalp. He roared into her ear.

"Don't forget whose dog you are, stupid little girl."


	8. The Lords

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gelfing captive Leina learns the truth about the Skeksis

For the first time the Gelfling had woken before the Hunter; he found her sitting by the remains of last night's fire, staring blankly into the ash. She'd clearly washed and perfumed herself the same way she'd done by the river, for even from across camp skekMal smelled the sweetness of pollen on her skin. It both irritated and aroused him. He guessed that the girl was planning a plea of clemency, and though he knew she'd fail the unbending courage of it was almost admirable- or perhaps it was only ignorance.

It didn't matter; either way she was making a fool of herself. She needed her confidence undressing, and as long as he kept an eye on her it'd do more good than harm

"You'll keep to my heel when we reach the castle," he said to the girl, alerting her attention. "And go nowhere without me, unless I tell you to. The guards won't let you leave alone, anyhow."

"Yes, my Lord."

It was amazing how much acid could be poured into two simple words, and yet sound so sweet.

"It'll save your arse," he said. "The other Skeksis aren't to be trusted. They fear me, but if you blunder off on your own they'll think I've left you for taking."

The Gelfling wrinkled her nose, as if she didn't much believe it, then nodded. She seemed in an odd, hard sort of mood, something between fear and resentment. He would have slapped the cockiness out of her, but he couldn't have her too bruised in the castle where other Gelfling could see, as much as he would've liked them to.

It took them only an hour to reach the castle, the Gelfling running to catch up with the Hunter's stride. Her ears were pricked up, and she looked more alive than she had in days. skekMal turned to glower at her.

"Remember my instruction, girl."

He barely looked at the Gelfling guards as he swept through the castle entrance, only snapping at them when Leina was stopped by one to be questioned.

"Imbecile; she's my attendant. Leave her be."

The guards backed off with profuse apologies, but the girl lingered, her grey eyes blinking. The stupid blind creature was intimidated, aware of the vast space around her but barely able to _see_ any of it.

"Heel," said skekMal, shortly.

The girl stumbled, gripping the Hunter's cloak as she followed.

"Where are we going, my Lord?"

"Hush."

He led her down winding passages and corridors, watching Podlings scurry out of his path in terror. When at last they reached the laboratory the Gelfling was out of breath, but still self aware enough to brush down the front of her dress when the Scientist rose to greet them.

"skekMal," said skekTek, with a false tone of pleasant surprise. "Such an unexpected visit."

"I never announce myself, skekTek. Unlike you, I lack the ego for such fanfare."

"I only mean I could have better prepared for your arrival. Displayed a selection of my latest innovations."

"Thank Thra you did not. Your tinkering with science is giving me trouble. My quarry are half-poisoned, spoiling the hunt. And you well know not to meddle there."

The Scientist spread his ugly hands placatingly, his eyes darting away from skekMal, towards the girl.

"I sincerely apologise, _really_, I do. But it's on the Emperor's _specific_ request that I conduct my experiments; I'm barely responsible for the aftereffects. Open a dialogue with _him_, if you have a grievance."

"Oh, I will, the Hunter barked. "And I'm sure he'll listen well to what I have to say."

"Indeed."

The Gelfling was moving forward, staring at the Scientist in awe. He preened under her gaze.

"Who's _this_ little one?"

"My name is Leina," said the Gelfling.

skekMal grabbed her by the back of her collar and jerked her to his side.

"Shut up. _It_ is my pet."

"Another one?" skekTek enquired, silkily. "So soon? Well, let's see if it outlasts its predecessors."

"It will, if you fix its eyes. The Gelfling's half-blind. I know you have the ability to make it see. So do it. You owe me."

skekTek slithered forward in his hideous robes and took the Gelfling's head in his hands, studying her.

"You see me, child?" he asked.

"Yes, my Lord, now I'm close to you. It's faraway things that I can't see."

The Gelfling was shivering, and the Hunter sneered at her. It was ridiculous to observe her worship, blinder than her eyes were.

"Well, Hunter, you're fortunate," said skekTek. "She has enough vision that I can restore a portion of it- there are two options, if you desire to hear them. But it's interesting, skekMal, for you to go such _lengths_ for a lowly servant."

"If it wasn't for our _great_ leadership over her kin she'd be gone, and I'd have better. But I cannot kill too many. So I'm sharpening her eyes the way I would a knife, making her blasted peepers useful to me. So. _Tell_."

The Scientist gestured to an array of scalpels laid out nearby, his shrewd eyes gleaming.

"The first option would be to perform surgery on her eyes in an attempt to improve her sight. Possible, in theory, but I've never carried out the procedure before. There's always the risk that it will fail or destroy her sight altogether."

The Gelfling moaned in fear, and skekMal was half-tempted to consent to the procedure purely to see her suffer.

"No. If you ruin her sight she may as well be dead."

"Very well, then."

Mumbling, skekTek released Leina's head and turned to his jumbled inventions, rifling through until he returned with an ugly pair of leather goggles with thick glass lenses.

"These are seeing glasses. They reflect light into the retina of the eye, and that corrects vision."

"I've tried eye glasses before, my Lord," said Leina.

She seemed to be taking courage from the Scientist's presence, growing in bravery despite the Hunter's grip on her collar.

"My mother took me to a man who made them when I was little, but they didn't work. I cried all the way home."

"Skeksis technology is far more advanced than Gelfling design," said skekTek, pompously. "You may as well compare the Crystal to a pumice stone. My abilities are utterly unmatched on Thra."

The Scientist turned his attention to skekMal again, his loathsome, wizened face practically glowing with the pleasure of having been able to boast to someone who would listen.

"l'll have to run a series of tests on your Gelfling in order to make eye glasses for her. Each pair is unique, tailored. It's time consuming, but that's the price of perfection."

"How long will it take?" the Hunter asked.

He could see the girl peering at the goggles curiously, longingly. How easy it would be to have her at his mercy, her eyes and will under his control.

"Ah, an unnum by my estimation. I've no doubt you're extraordinarily busy on those hunts of yours, but if you can make the time to bring the Gelfling to me once a week or so I can ensure her new vision will be a colossal improvement. _Or_ you could leave her here til they're ready."

The Scientist's voice took on a sly, silvery tone.

"The Podlings could prepare her a room. She'd be taken care of."

It never failed it impress the Hunter how even a creature like the Scientist with his self-important play at sophistication still couldn't _resist_ lowering himself to basic needs.

"Care? Ha," skekMal sneered. "She'd be passed around like some poxy party favour. Besides, a servant is no use if it's not at my side."

"Pity," said skekTek.

He turned away, apparently bored of the conversation, then his eyes lit up again.

"We haven't discussed my payment yet, skekMal. This is a difficult project; I must get something in return."

Snarling, skekMal lunged forward and shoved the Scientist towards the centre of the room until he teetered at the edge of the Crystal's shaft. The Gelfling screamed and tugged at his robes, using all her pitiful weight to pull on him.

"No, no, _please_, my Lord, what are you doing? Don't hurt him!"

Without looking at her the Hunter cuffed her away, knocking her to the floor.

"You dare ask me for payment?" he roared at the Scientist. "After seeping your venomous concoctions into my hunting grounds? _Idiot_. Be grateful you've kept your miserable life."

"Yes, yes, of course, I understand!"

The Scientist's throat was thin and scrawny in skekMal's hand, bobbing and swallowing grotesquely. With a grunt the Hunter let him go, watching him scuttle away across the laboratory to a safe distance.

"Anything _else_ you want, Hunter? Or does your pet _whore_ have any other ailments you want me to attend to?"

"I've no more need of you, pondscum," skekMal said, and beckoned the Gelfling to his side.

Once they were moving through the corridors again he pushed her up against a wall, his hand between her thighs, squeezing her until her face clenched with pain.

"How prettily you plead for the Scientist's life. For someone who thinks so little of you."

"He is a Lord of the Crystal," said Leina. "I'm nothing compared to his greatness. And besides, he was quite kind to me."

"_Kind_," mocked skekMal. "You're naive. But you'll see."

"So you keep telling me, my Lord," said the girl.

Her voice was mousey, without a trace of sarcasm, but all the same the Hunter bounced her head off the wall before he let her go.

*

Leina scurried after the Hunter, feeling as if with each step she left a scrap of her old world behind. The Scientist, though relatively polite to her, had openly acknowledged that she was the Hunter's _whore_ rather than a willing attendant. He'd watched skekMal shunt her around the room without comment or admonition- did that mean the Skeksis approved of such abuse, or was he simply afraid to voice it in the Hunter's presence? Even the latter was unlike anything she'd heard of the bold and courageous Lords before. Still, it wasn't evidence of the Hunter's claim that all Skeksis were monsters; it was only proof that the Lords were flawed, and in ways Leina hadn't expected.

Rubbing the bump on the back of her head Leina asked, "My Lord, where are we going now?"

"The Emperor," said skekMal, over his shoulder. "Don't look him in the eye or speak to him, for Thra's sake. If you offend him I'm not drying your tears."

A strange voice piped up from a shadowy corner of the corridor, high and wheedling.

"Emperor would be offended by mere Gelfling presence, would he not, mmmm? Prefer audience alone, amongst equals, not in earshot of _servants_."

"skekSil," the Hunter muttered. "What are you doing, lurking in the dark?"

"Not _lurking_, skekMal. Never that. Chamberlain wanted to see Gelfling pet that castle guards witter about. I didn't expect her to be from lowly Grottan clan. Poor class make better attendant, hmm?"

A shape had emerged from the corner, all plush velvet bulk and black ornaments. As it loomed closer Leina saw the sleek, shrewd head of the Chamberlain, his curved beak gleaming.

"But she is beautiful, yes? White hair like frost, lips like bud of forest flower- could almost forget that skin is green. You choose well, skekMal."

Leina flushed. Only Salys had ever complimented her like that before, and mothers saw beauty in even the most repugnant child.

"Don't flatter her," said skekMal. "She's the same as any other female. Not that you'd know."

"I'm sure Hunter is right," said skekSil, silkily. "But to Chamberlain's uncultured eye girl is pleasing. But Emperor might not welcome Gelfling as I do. His patience is short. Might think Hunter is... _flaunting_."

"I've never hidden a trophy in a thousand trine; I won't start now."

_Trophy_.

Leina's stomach squeezed. She hadn't considered why the Hunter had been so ready to have her at his side in public. He'd been disgusted by her decorating herself, after all. Perhaps that had been for show, or was an aggression strangely mixed with pride. For despite his cantankerous rumblings he was proud of taking her and destroying her life, the way he was proud of every other bone and tooth hanging from his body. She might as well have been dead; he'd display her just the same.

"Why take risk of aggravating Emperor?" skekSil enquired. "Or distracting? He might not listen. I am good friend to Hunter. Let me take girl, watch over her. Show her castle, amuse her for while."

He winked at Leina, making her laugh and cover her mouth as the Hunter shot a glare in her direction.

"It'd keep her out of my way for a while, I suppose. I'm sick of her simpering."

"Yes, yes, peace and quiet. Time to self."

Leina felt tears of gratitude springing into her eyes. She sensed that _this_ Skeksis, at least, would have some empathy for her, even sympathy. There was no other reason he'd make such an effort to keep her out of trouble, and if skekMal trusted the Chamberlain alone with her then he surely had no bad intentions.

"Fine, said the Hunter. "Keep an eye on the girl. Don't let her try to slip away from you."

"I would _never_," said skekSil, his hand fluttering to his heart.

"Go, then," barked skekMal, shoving Leina at the Chamberlain. "Don't give him trouble."

"I won't, my Lord. Thank you, my Lord."

Snorting, skekMal marched away down the corridor and disappeared. skekSil looked down at Leina and opened his beak in a smile.

"There, now I can make Gelfling's acquaintance."

"I am Leina. He... skekMal doesn't often call me that, though. He uses other names."

"skekMal does as skekMal wants," the Chamberlain said, coyly. "But I will call Gelfling 'Leina'. Friends use each other's preferred titles, yes?"

Leina nodded, clasping her hands together. _Friends_. She'd never imagined a Skeksis to take her side so quickly; it made the dying cinder of hope inside her flare up again.

"My Lord, can we speak somewhere in private?" she asked. "I have something I'd like to ask you and wouldn't want people to hear. They might think I'm trying to cause trouble but really I'm not, I..."

"Chamberlain understands. I have private chambers. Come. Come. No prying eyes and ears. Only you and I."

"Yes please, my Lord. Thank you so much."

skekSil smirked, and within minutes Leina found herself being escorted into a huge, opulent bedroom hung with jewels and throws in all directions. The carpet was thick under her feet, and the air was thick with the sweet scent of burning herbs. There were paintings and ornaments on the walls she couldn't see clearly, but sensed were as rich and vibrant as everything else. As she stood admiring it all the Chamberlain closed the door and locked it.

"_There_, no one will hear us. Walls thick, and no one knows Leina is here except Hunter and skekSil."

"Good," said Leina, with relief. "As I wanted to tell you the Hunter has done... _awful_ things. He murdered my brother and many other Gelfling, he forced me from my home. Hurt me in so many ways. I know you must be shocked, for Skeksis are loving and good but he..."

"Oh, I know. _All_ Skeksis know," said skekSil, shaking his head regretfully. "We don't approve, no, of course, but it's his way. We cannot stop him."

The newly burning fire of hope guttered.

"You mean you can't help me get away from him? I want to go _home_, my Lord. My mother needs me."

"Can't be done. You've been seen in castle with Hunter. Mother knows you are missing. Even if Leina never tells, rumours would spread that Hunter did terrible things. Looks bad for other Skeksis."

"They might spread anyway. Besides, surely the Emperor could stop him? He... he could..."

skekSil spread his hands.

"skekMal is powerful ally to Emperor. His great strength and skill is of great value. Emperor wouldn't risk losing Hunter's loyalty over one small Gelfling."

"But my Lord, how... how can I live being beaten and _tortured_? Knowing he's killed my loved ones, that he might kill me too?"

Tears slid down Leina's face, dropping one by one onto the soft carpet. skekSil swept across to her and eased a hand onto the small of her back. She let him escort her to his vast, cushioned bed and sat down on it, her feet dangling inches from the floor.

"Poor Leina," said skekSil, using a lace-trimmed handkerchief to dab at her tears. "Poor, wounded girl. Tell Chamberlain what nasty things skekMal did to you."

"I... I can't," Leina whispered. "It's too embarassing."

"Then let me comfort you," said the Chamberlain. "Make Leina forget."

He dropped the handkerchief and held Leina's face in his wizened hand. Gently he trailed it down her neck and cupped her left breast through her tunic. Leina jolted away, her chest clenching so hard that she was sure for a moment that she was dying.

_No. No. No. This can't be._

"I... I'm sorry, my Lord. I don't want to."

"_Please_. Our secret. Not even skekMal will know."

Desperate, Leina looked around the room, wondering if there was an unlocked door or window she could run to. If there _was_ she'd be unlikely to find it before skekSil caught her. However, he didn't move fast, like the Hunter, and he didn't seem as strong, and that could work to Leina's advantage.

"I'm sorry," said Leina, in a harder voice. "But I don't want to do anything with you. _Please_ let me go. If you don't I... I'll hit you."

"That would be treason," said skekSil.

His eyes glinted with malice. How hadn't she seen it before?

"Yes, _treason_. Emperor and other Skeksis would hear Gelfling slave attacked innocent Chamberlain, who only offered kindness. Gelfling will be executed. _All_ will know."

"You... you wouldn't," Leina stammered. "The Hunter would be angry with you. He'd _kill_ you."

"Not skekSil," the Chamberlain said silkily. "I would make him see I did Hunter great favour. No more violent, disobedient girl."

Slowly Leina bowed her head, letting her hair swing in white swathes. skekSil pushed it away, his fingers making her scalp crawl.

"Is that _yes_, Leina?"

Leina said nothing. skekSil lightly pushed her down onto the bed and dragged himself over her, his perfume scented robes falling around her. He brushed his beak across her lips in a cruelly awkward parody of a kiss.

"Yes," he murmured, staring greedily into her eyes. "Yes, yes, yes, yes."

He prised the clothes from Leina's stiff little body, gliding his talons over the nude skin beneath.

"Green of twilight sky," he mumbled. "Not so ugly, after all."

In soft, slow strokes skekSil ran his tongue over Leina's breasts, over her stomach, down to the cleft between her legs. He whined in pleasure, while Leina pressed her lips together, trying to keep her silence. The Chamberlain seemed to want her to make her to make noise, like a child violently shaking a music box. Only he wasn't violent but creeping, gentle, persistent, maddeningly so. It made her want to slough her skin, like a serpent.

"So still, pretty Gelfling, so _quiet_. Don't you want to bring joy to a Lord of the Crystal?"

"No."

"_Please_?"

She couldn't believe he had the gall to beg so sickeningly, plucking at her tit as if he thought it might give milk. It appalled and enraged her, the shock of dual emotion evaporating her tears in an instant.

_Now skekMal doesn't own me, _she thought with a crazed, hideous glee_. He's sharing me. I'm the whore he thinks I am._

"I want to live," she whispered. "All I want is to live, my Lord."

"And you _will_," said the Chamberlain. "If you _serve_ your Lord."

His hardness brushed against her, and she opened her legs to take it. As the Chamberlain moved upon her, and she against him, she felt the thickness of his robes and the rotting sweetness of his skin and the hopeless, aching agony of knowing that the Hunter had been right about his kind. They weren't Gods. Or if they were, that was a terrible thing.


	9. Weak Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> skekMal discovers what his Gelfling has done

It felt like it would never be over. With skekMal it was always swift and short and brutal, a grim sort of routine. skekSil, however, took his time with Leina, luxuriating in an opportunity to harm without consequence. He talked, too, in a constant, self-indulgent flow, like a caged bird that knows it's beautiful and must say so again and again. What could only have been half an hour seemed like a hundred trine, each more excruciating than the last.

"Please, my Lord, I must go now," said Leina, when she though she could stand no more without killing herself. "The Hunter will come looking for me."

"Shame," said skekSil. "Such a shame. We must stay friends, you and I. Even _allies_"

The Skeksis' face was wet, his fine robes rumpled and damp with bodily fluids. It was likely the most unkempt the creature had even been.

"I cannot," said Leina, stuffing her clothes onto her body. "I'll already be in enough trouble for this, if skekMal finds out. There's no _way_ this can happen again."

"There _are_ ways," skekSil said, slyly. "Chamberlain always finds them. But if Leina must be hasty, we may discuss another time."

Leina was already standing and clothed by the time the Chamberlain had tidied himself into respectability. He seemed to hold himself taller than before, gloating with conquest.

"I will escort you back to skekMal. Back to life of sleeping in stinking tent, and death. But let Chamberlain give gift to thank Leina for her company."

The Skeksis fumbled about on top of a dressing table and pressed a beautifully carved hairbrush into Leina's hands. As she took it she noticed the handle came apart, like a sheath. Inside was a blade, as long and thin as a knitting needle. It was so sharp that even touching it with the side of her finger raised a glistening line of blood.

"I don't understand," said Leina, faintly.

"Woods are dangerous," said skekSil, shrugging. "Who knows when you will need protection."

He had absolutely no fear of her harming him with it; he must know that if she turned the blade on him she'd be killed before she made it out of the castle. What was he offering, then? An attempt on skekMal's life, or an escape from her own? For the latter, at least, it had come too late. If death must be hers then it would have to chase her down.

"You're... very generous, my Lord," said Leina, fitting the hairbrush back together and slipping it into the pocket of her tunic. "And wise. The forest is dangerous. But... castles are, as well."

"You impress Chamberlain," said skekSil, unlocking the bedroom door. "Cleverer than I thought."

Keeping a talon on Leina's shoulder he propelled her into the corridor, his scaly hand still hot with sweat. He kept up an incessant prattling as he walked, a mixture of gossip and veiled taunts. Leina didn't react to them; she knew that she was being tested. In a liking for games, at least, skekSil and skekMal were similar.

From time to time other Skeksis passed, most courteous, others dismissive. Each time Leina tried to discern some grain of genuine caring in their eyes or voices, but there was none; even the kindest were riddled with greed. She wondered tiredly if they had always been this way, or if something had changed them, wearing goodness away like a stone against a cliff face.

"There you are. I've been waiting for you, girl."

Leina whipped around. skekMal filled the corridor behind her, glaring through his mask with suspicious eyes.

"Many apologies, skekMal," murmured the Chamberlain. "I had much to show Gelfling."

"Doubt she _saw_ much of it," skekMal grunted. "You've wasted your time."

"Mmmm, not at all. We had most _pleasant_ visit, did we not, Leina?"

skekSil's hand slid down Leina's back and buttocks as he lightly pushed her towards the Hunter. She clenched her fists, wishing she had the strength to round on him and smash his beak to splinters. By now thoughts of violence came so easily. It appalled her.

"Are we leaving, my Lord?" she asked.

Leina stood as close to the Hunter as she could without having to touch him, knowing the Chamberlain wouldn't try anything in his eyeline.

"Castle didn't suit your tastes, eh, little princess?"

Leina forced her face into placid stillness, her lips itching to grimace.

"It's an honour to be here, my Lord."

The Hunter spat into a corner.

"You and that silver tongue. No wonder the Chamberlain took to you so well. Now, come."

*

It was only after leaving the perfumed halls of the castle that the Hunter smelled the girl. She _stank_, not of Gelfling and flowers but of fucking, of Skeksis. The Chamberlain's rank sweetness curdled in his nostrils, igniting a near instant rage inside him. It had been inevitable, almost _intended_ for the others to get their fill of the girl; it was the surest way to prove to her that her imagined, pleasant society was false. But the fact that she had fallen victim so easily reminded skekMal of the weakness of his quarry; he would never be challenged like he was in the old days ever again.

He contained himself until they broke the perimeter of the woods, then wrenched the Gelfling around, ramming her spine against a tree.

"Cunt," he said. "Think I didn't know what you were up to? And what's _this_?"

He tore at the Gelfling's tunic, pulling out the object that had been creating a lump in her abdomen.

"It's a hairbrush, my Lord," the Gelfling whispered. "The Chamberlain was... thoughtful in giving it to me."

"Liar! It's payment, isn't it? For whoring your useless corpse to him."

The Gelfling suddenly pulled in his grip, her tiny teeth gritted together in a snarl. It her face look almost bat-like, tiny and wicked.

"You think I _chose_ to do anything with him? Why _would_ I? He's disgusting."

"And yet you did," said skekMal. "Trying to buy your way out my keep, no doubt."

"He _raped_ me!" the girl protested.

Her voice was a strangled scream, harsher and angrier than any sound he'd heard her make before.

"He said if I didn't do it he'd have me killed. He didn't care that I was _yours_. He _forced_ me. So why don't you go back and threaten _him_?"

"I have no quarrel with my brethren," snapped skekMal.

"What about the Scientist? You had with _him_. Or do you only pick on weak things?"

"You must be _mad_ to speak to me like that."

Shrieking, the girl flailed so wildly in the Hunter's grip that she struck the front of his mask, slamming it up into his face. skekMal dropped the hairbrush and wrestled the girl's arms over her head. With a free arm he withdrew one of his blades and pressed it to the Gelfling's cheek, holding it there until she stopped kicking.

"You strike me, idiot?" he bellowed. "I could cut your puny head in two. Don't provoke me."

"Do what you want," said the girl, sullenly. "You knew what would happen to me, _didn't_ you?"

"Knew the other Skeksis would paw at you, yes. But I thought you clever enough to witter your way out of anything more. But you're as empty-headed as the rest of your kind."

"He _raped_ me," the Gelfling squeaked again.

Was he supposed to pity her for her grievance, when she was still full of the Chamberlain's cold seed?

"Of course he did, whore. It's all you're good for."

He threw the girl into the grass, bored of her piping voice. She tucked the precious hairbrush back into her tunic and knelt, silent, awaiting orders. Looking at her skekMal felt such a sudden and intense hatred he could have ripped her spine from her frail body. Instead he kicked her in the small of the back and strode past her, gesturing for her to follow.

She didn't.

"_Follow_, worm."

"Aren't you going to beat me, _skekMal_?"

It was the first time she'd ever uttered his name, and she said it with venom and disdain. It wouldn't do.

"You goad me, little lunatic. You think a quick punishment will make me forget your betrayal? Or are you so hungry for another fucking?"

The Gelfling stared at him with her white, moon-like eyes, and there was something so acidic in that stare that she didn't even have to speak again to anger him.

"Fine. Like having my name in your mouth, do you? Then I'll hear you scream it."

The girl didn't resist as he threw himself upon her, becoming as soft and yielding to him as she usually was. Only her pale face showed her resentment, and he sought to put it out. Snarling, skekMal dragged the girl's clothes from her and buried a cock in both her holes, the force making the girl bleed. She was too small for such treatment, but the smell of the Chamberlain rising from her made the Hunter forget that he might break her.

"There, there," skekMal grinned. "Poor little pet. Isn't that what you wanted?"

The Gelfling's back was arching with agony, but she made no sound. The Hunter grabbed either side of her head and squeezed, putting so much pressure on the girl's weak skull that veins stood out on her forehead. Her fingers fluttered up, scratching at him.

"You're not screaming. I want to hear it."

He dragged his talons down her scarred torso, tugging open the wounds he'd put on her the night before. At last she gave him what he wanted, her body bucking and curving against his in pain.

"_skekMal_!"

The Hunter snatched a handful of her beautiful hair and stuffed it into her mouth, smothering her. He kept his hand over her face as he fucked her, using her like a toy until he finished and stilled.

"You remember who you belong to," said the Hunter. "No matter which Lord borrows your cunt."

He sniffed her quivering body, and nodded in satisfaction. She smelled like him again.


	10. Songbird

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> skekMal teaches his whore how to trap.

That night Leina curled on her side, wide awake, laying out what she really knew about the Skeksis. The truth, as she understood it, although she barely trusted her own perceptions any more.

How many _other_ Gelfling, if any, had seen the cruelty behind the Lords' performed civility? Or did everyone _know_, deep down, and choose to ignore it for an easier life? Perhaps the Gelfling simply _were_ a lower species, deserving of domination. It didn't matter; the end result was all the same.

Leina had to return to play-acting the browbeaten dog, no matter how much it degraded her. Fighting back wasn't safe, and until she had her eye glasses there was no way that she could escape without being caught immediately. With vision she could at least disguise her conspicuous appearance, find nooks and crannies to hide in.

One unnum: that was how long the Scientist had said it would take to finish the eye glasses. One unnum to endure pain and humiliation, to glean whatever survival techniques she could.

One unnum until her attempt at freedom.

The following day the Hunter made Leina accompany him as he set traps in the forest for some poor doomed creature to fall into. He had her toiling on her knees, snapping instructions from time to time. Leina had never seen such ugly contraptions- hinged metal teeth, ropes that hung, invisible, in the trees only to snap violently against anyone unlucky enough to trip over it. She kept mental notes of how to put them together, how they worked, and how to dismantle them. There were other traps still active from previous hunts, and if Leina was ever to find herself running through the forest alone she had no intentions of getting caught in one of the Hunter's snares.

"Enjoying yourself, are you?" said skekMal, eyeing her with suspicion.

"I... like learning, my Lord," said Leina.

Grunting, the Hunter inspected her handiwork.

"Hmm. It'll do. You don't have much talent, but you listen, I'll give you that."

An abrupt, yelping scream erupted from the midst of the woods, making the tiny hairs on Leina's skin stand on end.

"A success," skekMal growled. "Come, little one."

Clutching the branch she'd been using as a walking staff Leina trotted in his wake. She hovered behind him as he approached a metal trap several metres away, crouching over it.

"Fah. A Fizzgig. Thank Thra the Emperor has promised me better hunting grounds."

Leina clapped her hands over her ears and squeezed her eyes shut. The poor mangled creature was shrieking piteously, perhaps hoping they were here to release it. Even if they had its round body was so broken it would have lived a short and tortured life. Tears squeezed between Leina's closed eyelids. How often in this short week she'd felt exactly as this creature did, and she was still physically whole.

"Ahhh, you weep for the stupid animal," said skekMal, his voice cold and mocking. "Dry your tears. It'll be filling your belly before long."

He drew one of his blades; Leina heard the metal singing.

"Here, girl. Put the thing out of its misery. Your first kill."

"I _can't_, my Lord."

"Can. I've seen rage in you. Enough to know you're capable."

Leina lowered her hands, shocked. The Hunter hadn't turned to look at her, but his hand was outstretched towards her, offering the blade.

"Weakling you might be, but I've no doubt you can strike true."

"But I don't want to, my Lord."

The Fizzgig's screams were becoming choked and strangled with blood. Whining, Leina dropped to her haunches. She'd thought she'd never feel the pain of another so strongly again, not since Tarron, but it hurt like a blow to the ribcage. skekMal jabbed the hilt of the blade at her, nearly knocking her flat.

"I'm tired of hearing your _wants_. Kill it, or I'll drag its suffering out far longer and you will watch it all."

Drawing a hissing breath through her teeth Leina accepted the blade. She kissed the handle, murmured thanks to Thra and prayers for the safe return of the Fizzgig's soul to it. She wasn't sure if that was what Gelfling hunters did, but it _felt_ right. At least, it made her feel slightly better about what she was being forced to do.

"What are you dithering for, idiot?"

Leina crouched over the Fizzgig, shielding it from skekMal's hateful stare. She pushed the tip of the blade to the animal's heart and closed her eyes again. She was struck with a bolt of black hatred, for skekMal, for skekSil, for the other Skeksis who had seen her torment and not intervened. It seemed to gather in her arm, giving her an awful strength as she hammered the blade home. She barely heard the Fizzgig screaming, barely felt its body twitch and convulse and bleed. She only saw that ripple of loathing, a dark and unfathomable beast.

"Quite the little killer, aren't you?" said the Hunter.

He wrenched the blade from her grip and pulled the Fizzgig out of the trap.

"You'll get used to it, youngling."

Leina said nothing. Her mind was throbbing with horrors, the shame and the filth and the evil that had been done to her again and again. She could hear the Hunter speaking to her, but only distantly.

"I..."

To the Hunter she must have looked strange, staring rigidly at nothing. He grabbed her by the scruff of her neck and carried her back to camp, muttering under his breath. After throwing her down beside the tent he forced the bottle of grog against her lips, dashing it down her throat. He didn't stop until Leina reached up to shove it away.

"I'm alright, my Lord. I don't want any more."

"You need it. Woke you up, didnt it? I've seen that look before. Broken creatures lost inside their own heads. You think too much, girl. That's a different kind of trap."

Coughing, Leina tried to drink a little more of her own accord. She doubted skekMal cared much for her welfare but his warning rang true; that frozen state had frightened her.

"Good girl."

The Hunter seemed in an almost amenable mood. He didn't ask Leina to help him as he skinned and gutted the Fizzgig, nor when he hung it over the fire. Leina was glad of that, for the drink was having the same strange effect on her as the last time, and she wasn't sure that she could hold a blade steady.

The Hunter took the flask from her and drank his own fill.

"So," said skekMal, wiping his mouth. "Put that mind of yours to use. Tell me one of your stories."

"Stories, my Lord?"

Of course; he'd eavesdropped upon her many times, listened to her whispering to herself.

"What kind of story would you like?"

"Conquest."

The Hunter's voice dripped with hunger. Swallowing, Leina said, "A story of _your_ kind or, mine? Gelfling have few conquests; we believe in peace and harmony on Thra. But then we've always had the protection of the Skeksis-"

"Not _protection_. No more than a jailer protects a prisoner. Your kind was one of few we spared when you could have easily have fallen to our swords."

"Who... were the others?"

"Aren't they in your tales and songs?"

Leina hiccuped, surprised by the turn in conversation. It was easy to forget that skekMal was as much a creature of ego as the other Skeksis; if pushed in the right ways he might volunteer the very information she'd been wondering about.

"Well, my Lord, there are a few stories about the Makraks," she said. "Before peace was made with them they were violent and destructive. The Gelfling and Makraks didn't understand each other, so there was conflict until the Skeksis-"

"The Makraks were near obliterated," said skekMal, harshly. "I was there. Tasted their blood. Ugly, dumb creatures, stinking of dirt. Useless outside of their underground home; the elements drove them mad."

"But they meant no harm, really," said Leina. "Is it _truly_ a conquest to destroy innocents, my Lord?"

The Hunter scowled at her, and she regretted speaking so thoughlessly.

"I only mean, surely it's more noble to vanquish a _true_ enemy, my Lord?"

"All species are the enemy unless they submit," said skekMal. "Like the Arathim. We shook them loose from their filthy caves like dust mites."

This talk of violence set that awful, frozen darkness creeping back.The swill of grog inside Leina made it worse, thicker, dense, confusing. She struggled against it, squeezing her hands together in her lap.

"Thra is teeming with creatures aching for domination," said the Hunter. "Only you Gelfling had enough brains worth sparing. And weapons. Women. Spoils of a war that never was."

"Why... why would there have been war?"

skekMal poked the roasting Fizzgig and laughed. It was always unnerving to hear his mirth, harsh and guttural.

"Most creatures _object_ to being ruled. Your lot didn't. We came to your world as God-Kings, and will remain forever. Gelfling were so willing to bend the knee. To submit. All soft, lacking in ambition. But come. Surely at least _one_ aberrant Gelfling in your tales had a blood thirst. I've watched _you_ turn with rage, girl, and you're just a grief-sick _woman_."

Red-faced, Leina turned her face aside to avoid his mocking gaze. There was quiet while they ate and drank more grog. It made Leina quite giddy, almost cocky, reflecting on the Hunter's words. He thought her different than the other Gelfling- well, _wasn't_ she? How many of _them_ had watched their lives be torn asunder, and forced to serve the maker of that downfall? It was a miracle she still had hold on her thoughts, even if they disgusted her, at times. And skekSil, _he'd_ seen something in her, too. He'd given her a concealed blade, not something a 'God' would give away thoughtlessly.

Humming under her breath Leina took the Chamberlain's hairbrush from the tunic pocket and pulled it through her hair, enjoying the thrill of power from knowing what was hidden in its handle. skekMal crept around the fire and watched her, his eyes dark with dislike.

"Do you wish me to put it away, my Lord?" she asked.

"I don't care what you do with your hair," he growled. "But your voice is pretty, little one. What's that you're singing?"

"I... remembered a song," said Leina. "About a Gelfling who was wicked. Who killed innocents."

"Then I'll hear it."

Slurring somewhat Leina attempted a verse, hating herself a little for performing so willingly.

_"In the swirling desert there was a man_

_who worshipped Death, so do all Dousan;_

_but his heart was cold, graves filled his tread _

_he sewed bones like seeds, gave birth to the dead_

_some kills he burned, stealing their souls from Thra_

_others devoured, from near..."_

The Hunter leaned into her, pushing her almost gently into the grass. She smelled the meat on him, the meat she had killed. Her voice faded to a whisper.

"Little songbird," skekMal crooned.

As he took her the verse ran through Leina's head in a discordant loop. She couldn't help wondering what had driven that Dousan of legend to killing, whether he'd been born evil, or driven to it by unimaginable suffering.

_Suffering_. It had to be.


	11. An Agreement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leina consents to two terrible acts

The girl was adapting, skekMal observed, folding into her suffering with a grim, quiet determination. It had been just over a week and a half since he'd taken her, and in that time she'd changed from a blinking innocent to a canny prey animal: watchful.

Cautious.

She was beginning to interpret his moods and routines, even predicting them, steering out of his way if his blood was high. He'd find her cringing inside the tent, her fingers twitching over some new piece of sewing she'd found to do. Embroidery, or some such word, so she called it. Glancing over her shoulder skekMal had seen a rough picture picked out in thread, stick-like trees with houses in between. Stone-in-the-Wood; the girl was missing her home.

Gelfing were pathetically social creatures, existing only to give birth and chatter and toil for their Lords, nothing more. Most of the Hunter's previous captives attempted suicide when they realized that simple life they knew was over. But Leina had endured every rape, every torment as if she was merely sheltering from the elements, waiting for them to pass. Strangely hardy, this slave, for a blind female plucked from the woods.

When his thoughts weren't consumed by the hunt skekMal watched the girl closely, tracking her temperament as she did his. Was it pure instinct that kept her vital, or something else? Her filmy eyes gave little away, but her mouth fortunately did. As the day approached for them to visit the Scientist again the girl began asking questions, always careful and courteous enough to avoid a beating.

"Will you leave me with the Chamberlain again, my Lord?"

An innocent enough query, but skekMal heard the tremble in it.

"Didn't like him, did you? Too bad. I'll put you where I please. You'll just have to learn to keep him from out from under your skirts."

The girl's cheek twitched, one of her few tics of emotion.

"Poor Gelfling; I offend your pride. Funny you still have have any, after so many days of being shown your place. You think that I prize your cunt so highly I'll ward my brethren away from it? I'm no fucking Paladin."

"I... only thought I could visit _another_ Skeksis, my Lord," the girl said. "Please? If you'd allow me to."

"Eh? I don't have time to give you a tour of the castle."

He eyed her, half-impressed by her gall. Few Skeksis would have dared to ask anything of him, let alone a slave.

"You'll find no allies, girl. Know that, don't you?"

"Yes, my Lord."

The girl had asked, once, the names and positions of all the Skeksis, and the Hunter had told her, not seeing the harm in it. It had seemed like idle talk, the kind they often had around the fire. Now he saw she'd busily absorbed every word. 

"What's this talk of 'visiting', then?"

Wincing, the girl said, "I only thought some of my Lords might be... gentler than others."

skekMal laughed so hard that his trophies rattled. Even the most amiable of his brothers was far from gentle; he doubted any Skeksis was capable of being such a thing. How pitiful for the girl to hope she'd find it amongst _them_.

"You want to be left alone, I'd wager. Untouched."

The Gelfling nodded. Her ears were down-turned, almost low enough to be buried in her hair. It struck the Hunter that she was a pretty little thing; all her kind were, most even more so than she, but there was something appealing about her that he'd paid little heed to, before. The idea of other Skeksis crawling their talons over her as skekSil had done made him bristle, and suddenly it didn't seem such a bad idea to keep a closer eye on her. Not for _her_ safety; his brethren knew better than to injure her. It was only his scent on her making him covetous, keen to the disrespect of them touching _his_ things without asking.

Like skekSil.

_skekSil_. Something had passed between the him and the girl, something more than fucking. The Chamberlain had always been careful to keep the Hunter on his side, and he was certainly the most tolerable of the Skeksis despite his irritating habits. But that didn't mean skekSil wouldn't try grooming the girl into foolishness, purely to swoop in and instate himself as saviour of the situation. The girl was unlikely to tell any details, even under duress; after all, she'd endured her worst beatings in relative silence. skekMal would simply have to be on his guard, more so than usual.

When they slept that night he made the girl sleep at his feet, like a dog, her tiny frame shivering with cold. Of all the things she'd learned true submission wasn't one of them. Oh, she _pretended_ with her prissy words and looks, but she talked too much, forgetting that most Gelfing in her place would be no more than quivering mutes. skekMal wondered what it would take to make her fear him as much as she hated him.

*

The day they were to visit the castle again came quickly- far _too_ quickly for Leina's liking. She didn't bother to perfume herself or dress up her hair as she had the last time, only stripping to wash the forest from her body. skekMal approached her, roughly running a hand over the red scars he'd left all over her. His touch made her throat close up with revulsion.

"Little pet," said the Hunter.

She felt his tail whisk the backs of her thighs. Leina often forgot he had one, secreted under his robes as it often was.

"I'll make a deal with you," said skekMal. "Learn to hunt with me. _Willingly_. You managed the traps well enough. You'll take to killing, Gelfling though you may be. No more whining, no crying. Don't expect you to be good at it. Just do as I say. Do that and I'll watch your arse. No other will touch you."

Leina lifted her head, alarmed. Such a sharp change in opinion surely couldn't bode well for her, as much as she was relieved by it. Besides, skekMal had _already_ been making her hunt, and would carry on whether or not she agreed to it. Wasn't that why he'd sought her eyeglasses?

The Hunter seemed to know her thoughts for he said, "If the Emperor finds me better hunting grounds my quarry will challenge me again. I'll want another pair of hands and senses. You'll need to be sharp. Paying attention."

He forced his hand under her jaw and wrenched her face upwards to look at him. His eyes- she could never tell whether they were gold or blue -glinted coldly.

"I... I may slow you down, my Lord," said Leina. "But I'll try."

"Hmm."

The Hunter let go of her, apparently bored of the conversation already.

"Dress."

Leina obeyed, clambering into the same makeshift clothing as the last time. When they later entered the castle the guards watching the main gate recognised her, no longer attempting to hold her back. They shrunk away from the Hunter, clearly expecting some kind of assault or reprimand if they caught his attention.

"What's this green squirming _thing_ doing inside the castle walls?"

Starting, Leina squinted ahead to see a bulky, armoured Skeksis glaring down at her, making no attempt to disguise his distaste.

"No concern of yours, skekVar," growled the Hunter. "The Emperor knows it's here. It belongs to me."

"So _this_ is the servant I've heard the others yammering about. Odd little specimen, isn't it? I would have credited you with better taste, Hunter."

Leina bit back an indignant comment. She was tired of being assessed so poorly by these creatures, particularly when she knew their private tastes so well.

"I don't have time to dally with Princesses as you do, General. Those soft creatures wouldn't last a day on the hunt."

"And this one _does_?"

"She's still alive, isn't she?" the Hunter grunted.

skekVar circled Leina, his beak parted in a sneer. She felt him reach out and grope her wings, the same harsh, emotionless way skekMal had touched her by the waterside. It was almost as intimate, making her twist towards skekMal in distress.

"Leave her be unless you want to lose a hand," said the Hunter. "I don't care what fucking status you hold in court. I'll hang your knuckles from my armour."

Snorting, skekVar shunted Leina aside so hard she almost turned her ankle.

"I've more important things to do than toy with your filthy Grottan whore. Get it out of my sight."

He marched off, muttering testily under his breath. Leina let herself breathe out.

"Thank you, my Lord. He was so... angry. Like he wanted to hurt me."

"That's one word for it," the Hunter said.

He seemed irritated, and Leina didn't dare speak to him again until they reached the laboratory. skekTek was already waiting for them, hovering in front of a strange contraption hooked over a stool.

"Greetings, Hunter," he said. "And little one. I hope hunting has been fair."

"The woods are still barren. You'd better pray the Emperor's enquiries have found me land untouched by your blasted tinkering."

"In all of Thra? I theorize that there will still be plentiful choice."

The Scientist patted the stool and gestured for Leina to sit upon it. Cautiously she did, allowing skekTek to affix the complex machinery to her face, covering her eyes. She found herself staring into a dark, black box with a vague splash of colour at the end of it.

"Now, I'll make some adjustments. Tell me when you can see a shape, girl."

The Scientist touched something on the machine and suddenly Leina's eyes focused, picking out a roughly painted picture of a tree rather like those she'd sewn herself back at the camp.

"I see it! A tree, my Lord!"

"Interesting. _Interesting_. And now?"

The tree became sharper still, minute branches perfectly defined.

"Oh, that's even _better_! I've never been able to see anything this well before!"

"Very good. Your sight will never be perfect, of course, but you'll be able to see long distance, at least in part. Let me take some notes."

Leina kept on staring at the tiny picture, enraptured, her pulse strumming like a bow string in her eardrums. How incredible it would be to see the outside world as clearly as this simple drawing, the way everyone else did. Her whole existence was a blur of shapes and impressions, only the closet objects defined. Wouldn't it be-

"_Enough_. Come, girl."

The Hunter yanked Leina off the stool. Her head, still caught in the machine, pinched and scraped against it as she wriggled free.

"Be careful, Hunter, do you know how many hours that took to assemble?" the Scientist squeaked indignantly.

"Too many," the Hunter shot back.

He was angry- no, _jealous_. It took Leina offguard. She'd been too enthusiastic, too eager; she'd have to be careful of that, in case skekMal thought she was trying to win the Scientist's favour.

Once back in the corridor the Hunter said, "Well, girl. Which Skeksis do you want to attend to, if not skekSil?"

Another surprise, after his previous rumblings. However, Leina already had an answer, having gone over the brief descriptions of each Skeksis he'd yielded to her many times in her head.

"The... the Ornamentalist, please, my Lord."

"Interesting choice. She's vicious. Did I tell you she once skinned a hundred birds alive for some garment of hers?"

Gritting her teeth, Leina nodded.

"I... have your protection, my Lord."

And my own, she thought, slipping her hand against skekSil's hairbrush in her tunic pocket. The Ornamentalist's chambers were near the heart of the castle, close to where people thronged and created gossip. With visible disgust the Hunter yanked open the door to the rooms without announcement, kicking the back of Leina's ankle to force her inside. She wished that she could see the room properly, for the colours and glittering treasures there seemed even more decorous than skekSil's had been.

"Oh, the little servant girl!" cooed the Ornanentalist, rising from a plush armchair. "I recall you scuttling down a corridor last week, precious thing. How generous of you to make a visit, dear."

"Don't flatter yourself, skekEkt," said the Hunter. "You're no better than a nursemaid. I have another meeting with the Emperor, and I'm not taking _it_ with me."

There was so much loathing in the Hunter's voice Leina had to stifle an anxious giggle. skekEkt was everything the Hunter seemed to despise in the other Skeksis, all lavish fashion and saccharine scents.

"Oh, I'm no _babysitter_, skekMal; I just haven't the temperament. If _that's_ all you want surely the Chamberlain would be eager to entertain the girl again."

Leina stiffened. How much did the other Skeksis know of what had happened between them? Or was the Ornamentalist only teasing? Her high, lilting voice made it impossible to tell.

"The Gelfling tired of him, and who can blame her with that accursed whining," the Hunter growled. "Humour her until I'm finished."

"Well, it's something to _do_, I suppose," skekEkt said, loftily. "Come here, girl. Speak with me a while."

"One warning," said the Hunter. "Don't force your vile carcass on her. I'll smell it on her."

"Why, how _vulgar_. I would never! I-"

The Hunter had already slammed the door on them, apparently glad to be free of the Ornamentalist's company. At once skekEkt turned back conspiratorially and said, "_Thra_, I don't envy you servicing that horrid beast. No taste, and no manners to speak of. You're quite wasted on him."

Bowing her head Leina didn't reply. Anything negative she said of the Hunter was likely to reach his ears, and he didn't need another excuse to turn to violence.

"Yes, quite pretty, aren't you, in your way," the Ornamentalist said. "Funny little cave creature. It's a shame that brute won't let me play with you. Still, you can entertain me in other ways."

The Skeksis fluttered a hand towards a glass table where a large ornament rested, a pipe snaking out of it emitting soft puffs of smoke.

"Smoke with me, won't you? And talk of yourself a little."

"What... _is_ it, my Lord?"

Leina asked, allowing the Skeksis to seat her fussily on an overstuffed couch.

"Oh, herbs, harvested and treated by Podlings. Seeds from some flower whose name I forget. But the effects... well, try it, girl."

She pushed the pipe into Leina's mouth and she breathed deep, drawing the vapour into her lungs. It was better than the grog, making her feel immediately relaxed yet wildly euphoric, driven to peals of laughter.

"Yes, yes, you like it? As do I."

The Ornamentalist smoked with her, and soon they were both laughing, sunken deep into the couch. skekEkt talked about scandals she'd taken an interest in, fashions she predicted would emerge- by her hand, of course -while Leina nodded, listened, murmuring compliments and feedback here and there. It was dangerous to be so at ease, but she was still aware of herself, and that was all she needed.

"My Lord," Leina said, in a rare lull in conversation. "I've been told so much of your skills in creating garments, something I cannot do myself. It would be an honour if you could make me something to wear; I have so few clothes. I know a _servant_ has no right to ask, but I admire you so very much. I-"

"Oh, say no more! They must be paid for, of course, but we'll talk of that later. Come, come, little one, I'll show you what fabrics I have in my sewing room."

Giggling, they entered another chamber filled almost entirely by wardrobes and chests bursting with rich cloth.

"What would you like? I suppose I can't make you _pretty_ gowns; it's above your station. But a few simple, modest things, well-made, strong at the seams, fit for a servant... Take off what you're wearing, girl, let me take measurements. And, by the Crystal, you'll need shoes, as well. _Those_ things are dropping to pieces."

Still dizzy from the vapours Leina stripped before the Ornamentalist, letting the fabric fall to the floor in a soft heap. skekEkt eyed her with ravenous interest.

"A shame that _creature_ scars you so. Tragic! Shameful. Such a delightful body, like a doll. I could make you pretty again. I have cosmetics, and that hair of yours... oh, but all of this is _so_ much work for me. So much."

skekEkt fluttered her hand in front of her face, as if the mere thought exhausted her, but she turned and fluttered into another room, returning with an armful of bottles and brushes.

"So many trine since I've had such a lovely subject. A pity. Now, girl, hold still a moment."

Leina leaned into a chair and let the Ornamentalist scuttle around her, painting over her healing scars with putty, smoothing her hair and plaiting it. It was almost pleasant to be pampered, but Leina knew that it would all be for nothing if skekEkt didn't make her garments as promised. Leina would need them for her escape, after all.

"My Lord," she said. "When... can you make my clothes for me?"

"Oh, in a few weeks, I work quickly. But payment first, yes? What can you give me of value, little one?"

skekEkt's talon had paused over her inner thigh, rubbing a smear of cosmetic across her skin. Their eyes met, and Leina made a decision. She knew skekEkt would not force her; she wouldn't risk angering the Hunter. But if Leina didn't meet the Ornamentalist's desires she'd be left with her own poorly made clothes and shoes not intended for running from beasts. With a shaking hand she brought skekEkt's hand between her legs, then stopped, shivering.

"If I... let you, he... he will _know_."

"Silly girl," murmured the Ornamentalist. "I have a private bath, perfumes. Any trace of our... _dalliance_ will be washed away."

Closing her eyes Leina nodded again. At least _this_ time she was muddled with fumes, and choosing this path of her own accord. But it was terrible, still, for the Ornamentalist wasn't soft and creeping, like the Chamberlain, nor brutal like the Hunter. She wanted weird, ugly things done to her, and to do them to Leina: a silk rope was put around Leina's throat, choking her as skekEkt fucked her, then tied to the Skeksis', Leina's small hands pulling until the creature's sweet breath wheezed so very close to breathlessness, but she didn't dare, didn't _dare_.

When it was over Leina let the Ornamentalist wash and dress her back in her own clothes, so as not to irritate the Hunter, and they smoked the pipe again, awaiting skekMal's return. The Ornamentalist looked at Leina almost proudly, admiring her own handiwork.

_To her, I'm a doll_, thought Leina, woozily. _To the Hunter, a trophy. None of them know who I am, not really. That's still mine. Untouched._


	12. Two Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leina triggers skekMal's rage

The Hunter's audience with the Emperor had gone better than expected. Not much, but enough to settle his temper a little. The Crystal Desert was, according to the Emperor's Gelfling scouts, still teeming with life, if only skekMal cared to visit it. It was a place he seldom crossed, for the sands were harsh, corrosive, difficult to navigate. The only way to assure safe passage was with the assistance of Rek'yr, his old reluctant ally; skekMal disliked having to rely on anyone, least of all that quietly judgemental Gelfling.

However, if Rek'yr was the Hunter's only means of a decent hunt then he would seek him out, taking the slave with him. Indeed, once the girl had her eye glasses she would not be leaving skekMal's side. skekMal didn't trust her alone, nor others around her. The Emperor himself had asked about the girl, if offhandedly, lacking his court's thirst for gossip. Even that small flicker of interest was irksome, although being the only Skeksis to openly keep a personal whore the Hunter had known to expect it. After all, he'd never brought any of his past captives anywhere near the castle grounds.

Yet the prying of skekMal's brethren aggravated him. They saw Gelfling every day, could have their pick of them. Still they yearned for _his_ creature; greed was all they knew.

Seething with irritation the Hunter strode towards the Ornamentalist's chamber. The putrid stink of drugged vapour was leaking from under the door. skekMal hawked a clot of phlegm and spat on the flagstones in disgust. Stalking into the room he saw skekEkt and the Gelfling were sat close together on an overstuffed sofa, wreathed in clouds of that same stinking smoke. The girl's face with painted with similar gaudy cosmetics to those the Ornamentalist used, lips crimson, eyes black with kohl. Her lids hung hooded, relaxed, the closest thing to happiness to have crossed her face since the last afternoon with her brother in the forest.

It _incensed_ the Hunter. Snarling, he swept a hand across the Ornamentalist's glass table, shattering the smoking pipe into pieces.

"_Hunter_! Have you gone mad?" shrieked skekEkt, cringing behind her hands. "Look at the girl, _smell_ her; I haven't touched her!"

True, there was no stench of rut on the girl, but it didn't matter. Her lips and eyes were sensuous, fluttering; skekMal wanted to scrub that sluttish look away, splintering her face if he had to. Instead he grabbed skekEkt by the ruff and shook her like a dog with a rat.

"You numb cunt; what is it you Skeksis don't understand? _My_ pet, _my_ creature. You've daubed her like a wench from some Gelfling whorehouse, as if she were _your_ plaything."

"It was her idea!" squawked the Ornamentalist. "All hers! She wanted to be beautiful! She was tired of looking like a dull, dirty servant; I humoured her, as you asked me to, that's all!"

"Oh, I don't doubt it."

Despite the noise and commotion the Gelfling was still blinking serenely through the dissipating smoke, unperturbed. The Hunter roared, for he knew she was close enough to see him, knew that in her slow state that she was choosing to ignore his rage. He tossed the wheezing Ornamentalist to the floor and gripped the girl by the back of the neck, raising her level with his mask. She stared through him, giggling stupidly.

"Are you _insane_, girl? How dare you make a fool of me?"

The girl seemed to have no control over words, still laughing helplessly, gazing at nothing. Her wings opened, something they rarely did in his presence. Mocking him- that's what this was, skekMal felt convinced of it. The Ornamentalist, gathering herself from the floor, watched the proceedings with a cruel interest.

"Explain yourself, Gelfling, or you'll get the thrashing of your life. Why do you openly defy me? Have I not told you what I thought of you prettifying yourself?"

Slowly the girl blinked, struggling to rouse herself. She licked her smeared, rouged lips, gathering moisture, and despite himself the Hunter felt himself harden.

"It was... a game, my Lord. As if I was... a doll."

"Games? Dolls? You fucking childling. Just when I think you're learning you prove yourself useless to me."

The girl lolled in his grip, barely listening. Something snapped inside the Hunter, and in blind rage he drew a blade from its sheath. He pressed it against the Gelfling's skull and began to saw a hank of her white hair away, slicing the scalp and a portion of her right ear away as he threw the grisly chunk aside. Only then did the girl scream, the sudden pain sobering her from her stupor.

Blood gushed over her face and clothes, smearing the cosmetic into a ruined mess.

"For Thra's sake, it's spoiling my rug!" the Ornamentalist moaned. "_Really_, Hunter. Must you ruin the whole chamber with your lover's quarrel?"

She yelped and ducked as skekMal swung the blade towards her, narrowly missing her shoulder.

"Don't utter that word to me. I'm her _M__aster_, though none of you scum pay any heed to that. But you will."

"By the Crystal, don't be so _precious_. She's only a _Gelfling_." 

"It's _my_ Gelfling."

The Hunter slammed the girl face down on the glass table, the broken shards of the smoking pipe burring her skin. She screeched, squirming like a caterpillar in an effort to escape him. skekMal held her down, pressing the tip of his blade into her mouth.

"Scream again and I'll cut your tongue out. Do you want the whole castle to know what a whore you are?"

"No, my Lord!"

He felt the sobs and spasms of pain wracking her body, arching her back up towards him. He smelled her fear. The tang of her blood. Felt the soft push of her arse into his groin. Dropping the blade he yanked her clothes from her torso, exposing her waiting holes.

"Not in front of _her_! Please, my Lord!

"Shut up," said skekMal.

The Ornamentalist put her head on one side, cooing under her breath. She was enjoying the spectacle, it seemed, relieved not to be the one torn apart. skekMal growled at her through his teeth.

"If you ever put one of your cocks in her again I'll gut you like a sand-boar."

"So crude. So unnecessary," skekEkt twittered.

She shrunk back a little, her shrivelled face fearful. The Hunter ignored her, focusing on the girl again. She was still screaming, one hand fluttering over the loose flap of her scalp. skekMal put a hand over her mouth and smothered her cries as he thrust into her warm arse, using her blood to glide easily in. He fucked her with the frenzy of killing, driven by the palpable terror rising from the shuddering slave. Her wings beat uselessly against his chest, flicking blood up onto his mask.

From the corner of his eye skekMal saw skekEkt touch herself under his robes, though her other hand cupped her eyes in faux disgust. With a grunt the Hunter finished, filling the girl with his seed. She was quiet, now, breathing in short, shallow bursts into his palm. He let her go, allowed her to stand.

There was a ghoulish pallour in the girl's face, turning the green almost white. She let her hand fall from her head, the loose piece of skin falling with it. Her eyes rolled.

"Get me something I can use for bandages," skekMal barked at skekEkt.

"_I'm_ not your servant, Hunter," the Ornamentalist objected, but scurried off with a reproachful look over her shoulder.

The girl remained standing, the last of the vapour numbing her enough to teeter upright. It must have taken considerable inner strength, and amidst his fury the Hunter was impressed.

*

_Pain. Pain. Pain_. It felt as if Leina's whole head was cleaved in two, although with the rush of drugs and adrenaline she wasn't sure how injured she really was. She heard the Hunter talking harshly, skekEkt chuntering sulkily as a roll of her precious fabric was torn and bound around Leina's wounds. Through a dizzy haze Leina saw the Hunter towering over her, blood dripping from his mask like a vision from a nightmare. She screamed, but not sound came out. All she could do was shiver, letting the Skeksis handle her like livestock.

"She looks grotesque," said the Ornamentalist, clicking her beak.

"Aye, and that's _your_ doing."

"_Mine_? You didn't say I couldn't _paint_ her. Creating beauty is what I _do_. You should have left her with the Scrollkeeper if you wanted her put in a corner and forgotten."

"Hush your mouth, cretin. I don't have time to argue with you."

_The Hunter doesn't know_, thought Leina, distantly. _He doesn't know what I did. He's only angry because he's... possessive of his trophies. I got away with it._

It didn't feel much like a victory. The Hunter looked her up and down, his eyes thin, malignant slits.

"I'll have to stitch her shut."

"You can't leave the castle with her looking like that," said skekEkt, stricken. "If Gelfling see they'll ask questions."

"Not of me," said the Hunter.

He caught Leina by the waist and slung her over his back like a satchel.

"Next time I come to this rotting hole I'll take her to the Emperor. Not one of you worms will get a lick of her."

If anything else was said Leina didn't hear it. The pain crushed it, the seed of delirious success thrashing wildly at its heart.

_Two secrets. I have two secrets from the Hunter._


	13. No Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of Skekmal's brutal assault on his Gelfling unfolds

It was a splendid dinner; the Gourmand had quite outdone himself. All seated tucked into roast landstrider, the sauces and seasoning raising the taste beyond perfection. skekSil ate as hungrily as the rest of them, yet his eyes were hungrier still. He looked down the dinner table towards the Scientist, who for once was sitting at the end having being begrudgingly allowed a place by his fellows.

"skekTek seems displeased," said the Chamberlain, cocking his head to one side. "Has some experiment failed on Scientist?"

The other Skeksis all grinned, prepared for another cruel round of ribbing their brother.

"All my current projects are consumating in a satisfactory manner," said skekTek, ever-haughty. "I'm only frustrated that the Hunter didn't bring his handmaiden to the castle this week as arranged. I'm rather interested to see if the lenses I've been making will correct its limited eyesight."

"You should be _glad_ he didn't come," said skekEkt, viciously. "If you could only _see_ the state he left my chamber in. Atrocious! _Unnecessary_! It took six Podlings to clean it. No better than an animal."

"And what was he _doing_ in your chamber?" asked the Collector, scratching his boils.

"Collecting his Gelfling whore," said skekEkt. "_And_ he had the cheek to _assault_ me when all I did was keep the foolish creature out from under the Emperor's feet. Ungrateful beast."

"So much melodrama over one puny Grottan," drawled the Emperor. "I really don't understand the obsession. Is she really so special or are you all simply starved of novelty?"

"I've clapped my eyes on the creature," said skekVar. "A measly, underfed girl. And defective. As the Scientist said, she's blind. More notable for being such a useless runt than anything else."

"_Blind_, you say?" said the Emperor. "Curious. I'd expect the Hunter to put it down on sight, not keep it as a pet."

"skekMal is _protective_ of Gelfling," said the Chamberlain. "Driven to violence. Aggression. Threatened skekSil over nothing."

"You've all known him long enough not to provoke his wrath," said the Emperor, through a mouthful of food. "I have no sympathy."

"The Hunter should be more careful, trailing that thing everywhere, he goes," said skekVar. "Is he _trying_ to show the Gelfling how little we think of them?"

A low rumble went up and down the table as the group considered this. Sipping wine, the Chamberlain wondered whether or not to indulge that he'd dabbled with the girl. He knew that if the court believed the Gelfling to be fair game they'd tear her delicate body into pieces, the way they had wayward servants in the castle before.

Besides, there was a kind of power in keeping that secret to himself. None of these idiots had tasted the girl's sweet nectar, none had felt her writhing on their swollen cocks amidst silk sheets, not even the Emperor.

Unless-

skekEkt, though strident and flamboyant as ever, avoided much mention of her own time with the girl. Had she merely watched Leina, talked at her, or had she made the girl's cunt her scabbard as the Hunter and the Chamberlain had?

"But what kept the Hunter from his appointment with me?" the Scientist whined. "He was excessively persistent in moulding the slave to his use. I see no logical reason he'd forget."

"Oh, the Gelfling is in no fit state to return so soon," said the Ornamentalist, examining her talons. "The Hunter savaged the slave, right in front of me. Half cut an ear off. Seems he doesn't like the girl showing even _polite_ favour to anyone but him, the selfish thing."

_Polite favour_.

The Chamberlain caught the gleam in skekEkt's eye, all mischief and secrecy.

"Indeed?" said the Emperor.

Finally a note of genuine interest had entered his voice.

"So now she's ugly as well as blind," said skekVar, and they all laughed uproariously.

After the long dinner was over skekSil followed the Ornamentalist towards his chamber, humming under his breath. When he was sure they were alone the Chamberlain said, "Tell me more about Gelfling. Became close friends, yes?"

skekEkt turned, fluttering her eyelashes.

"Oh, _closer_ than close."

*

It was the third day of the Gelfling's fever, and only now was it starting to break. skekMal almost regretted being so rough with her, having lost days of hunting to cleaning the wound and forcing water down the girl's gullet. He'd considered killing her to save himself the commitment, but ultimately decided against it. It would only mean having to go through the process of taking and breaking in another, twice as much effort as mopping the sweat from the Gelfling's brow.

She hadn't fully regained consciousness since the afternoon skekMal had brought her back to camp. He'd filled her belly with grog and set to cleaning her wounds with the dregs of it, or tried to. The girl had screamed so much that in the end the Hunter struck her out cold, stitching her head shut while she lay silent. The cut on her scalp she'd be able to hide with her hair, once that patch grew long enough again, but her ear- a piece was missing, and it would always be scarred.

No matter. The Hunter hadn't kept her only for her looks, and besides he liked the way he'd marked her, the ugliness of it. No one looking at the girl would doubt that she was his, and all would fear to touch her. But although skekMal kept the wound clean infection somehow settled in, surging through the girl's system like liquid fire. She vomited through her nostrils, shook like a newborn Fizzgig pup and pulsed with sweat, although her body was so cold that the Hunter grudgingly lay against her, cursing her weakness.

He trickled water and broth into her mouth, squeezing her throat to make her swallow, and when she pissed herself in her helplessness he wiped her down and kicked dirt over the mess. It was the most skekMal had ever done for another being, yet none of it was for her, _Leina_, at all. He felt no love for her, at least no more than the Scientist loved his scraggly pet bird, that in itself scarcely more than the desperate affections of abject loneliness. It was pleasant to touch the girl's soft hair and skin, to fuck her tight body, to listen to her chatter, wring out her fear. But the hunt was skekMal's only love, anything else the merest ghost of that passion.

Still as he nursed her the Hunter asked himself again and again why he didn't just break her neck and be done with her, little thing that he had spoiled.

On the fourth day the Gelfling had terrible dreams. The fever was breaking, but as it left her it sent her into spasms of horror that skekMal watched with amused interest. Her hands twitched, groping at imagined figures, her eyes darting violently under their lids. From time to time she spoke, although not always of things the Hunter understood. Those he did made him snort with harsh laughter.

"Tarron, let me put you back together. Your head is falling off."

"Mama? Where are you? You know I can't see... I can't see... I can't _see_!"

"Please don't.... I don't want to anymore... I don't like it..."

At this the girl sat bolt upright, her mouth so wide that the Hunter saw the pink at the back of her throat.

"He'll know. skekMal."

Dreams were only dreams, meaning nothing most of the time, but the Hunter found himself mildly perturbed by the way she keened his name. Roughly he shook the girl until at last she seemed to wake, her foggy eyes blinking. She groaned, putting her fingers to the thickly ribbed stitching on her scalp and butchered ear.

"At last, sleeper," said the Hunter. "Thought I'd be wiping your arse for another day or so."

The girl seemed to realise her state, naked and sweat soaked under her sick-bed of furs, and recoiled from him. Her face twisted in fear.

"I'm alive," she said, softly.

"You are. No thanks to your stupidity. Told you I'd beat my lessons into you."

"I'm sorry, my Lord."

Was she? The Hunter didn't believe it. He remembered too clearly the ease on her painted face, so close to the warmth of ecstasy. Damn those vapours, and their false joy. It had been an escape from him, although not a physical one.

"I... I wish I know how to please you, my Lord," the girl said, suddenly. "I seem to anger you without... meaning to."

"I've told you, little bitch. Keep quiet, and listen, warm my bed and my cock. Act like a servant, not a concubine."

"I don't know what that means, my Lord."

The Hunter reached out, enjoying the violence of her flinching, and pushed her down into her sheets. She lay, quivering, obviously expecting a blow.

"You know. And you'll fucking behave yourself, now, won't you, girl? Or I'll ruin that other pretty ear as well."


	14. The Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Both the Gelfling girl and the Chamberlain are scheming; only one of them has clear motives

In the days after the fever Leina saw very little of skekMal. She got the sense that nursing her had offended his pride, although it meant no more to him than mending a broken blade. He kept her chained to a tree by her throat and ankle while he was gone, relinquishing the small established trust between them. Leina didn't much care; she was only relieved that his absences gave her time to plan her escape in better detail.

The embroidered fabric she'd been working on helped her focus, each stitched image representing a step she must take. A weapon had already been secured, and clothing for the journey, although she'd have to find some way of collecting the latter without skekMal becoming suspicious. Food she'd be able to hunt herself, if she applied herself to the Hunter's teachings. The greatest obstacles were how to outwit him, and where she could flee to.

For hours Leina sifted through her options, seeking answers, finding nothing. The Hunter had few weaknesses, being stronger, faster, stealthier and far more intelligent than she. He could track her scent and be on her in minutes, so unless she found some way to mask or confuse it Leina would stumble at the first hurdle. As for where to go- it had to be somewhere far away, obscure, unfamiliar terrain. Perhaps the Drenchen clan would take her in, or even the Dousan. skekMal seemed to dislike the desert folk, and their homeland even more; perhaps the place he avoided most would be safest.

But how to _get_ there? Leina had never travelled beyond the village alone before, let alone a whole other region of Thra. She'd heard of adventurers using maps to navigate the land, but Leina had never learned to read let alone translate a map. There was one Skeksis she supposed could teach her, the Scroll Keeper, but from something skekEkt had casually mentioned he wouldn't have much interest in schooling an illiterate Gelfling. Still, if _only_ there was some way to communicate with him, to at least try to seek his help- Leina doubted skekMal would ever leave her alone with another Skeksis again.

She shuddered, pricking her finger on the needle. All week during her conscious moments Leina had avoided thinking about that day in the Ornamentalist's chamber, her mind recoiling as if the memories had scalded her. The shame was a ravenous mass inside her, consuming all. She saw herself sat astride skekEkt, tugging ribbon at her neck until she gargled saliva into Leina's face, a bubble of mucus blooming from her nostrils. Felt the helpless rush of air from her head as she rode the creature, skekEkt's wicked eyes glittering from across the room as skekMal raped her. Her talons handling herself through her robes.

Leina felt it all as if she were _there_, being punished again. The Hunter had wanted the Skeksis to respect him, to see _her_ as no different than the rolling beasts that supported their carriage. Leina had no doubt he'd achieved it. She felt her hands growing cold merely recalling his sudden violence, relatively unprovoked. Who _knew_ how much worse things could become, what other petty jealousies would drive him to maim her?

Leina stiffened, aware of a violent rustling in the trees. She folded her patch of sewing away, feeling unprepared for any questions about it. skekMal emerged with a Hornstack over his shoulder, its blood coating him head to foot. He glanced at her as he dumped his quarry by the fire, making her shrink back against the nearest tree.

"You'll need those stitches out in a day or two," he growled.

Leina said nothing. She was too afraid of a beating to utter even her usual meek response. The Hunter sniffed, dismissing her. He used an old rag to wipe himself down, tossing it onto the fire. The crackle of sparks rising made Leina jerk, startled.

"Nervy little thing, aren't you?" said the Hunter. "Have I put fear into you at last? Sweet coward."

He sat down, removing some of his armor and trophies to set aside.

"Get up and help me, useless."

Swallowing, Leina tugged against her chains. They didn't pull anywhere near close enough. The Hunter watched her smugly, making no effort to help her until she raised her head to him, imploring.

"If you want something then say so. _Beg_."

Bile rose to the back of Leina's throat.

"P-please, my Lord."

"That's more like it."

The Hunter yanked the chains from the stake they were clamped to and pulled them short, dragging Leina to her knees. She was afraid to raise her hand to aid him, her fingers fumbling numbly on the ties of his armor. skekMal ran his claw roughly over her cheek, down her shoulder, to her right breast. He thumbed her nipple through her tunic, and Leina clamped her lip over an anxious moan.

"I like you better now," said skekMal. "I was tiring of that rebellious streak of yours."

The stink of fresh blood on him made Leina's stomach turn, bringing forth images of herself coated in her own gore. She undressed the Hunter as quickly as possibly, leaving him only in his robes. Once done she began to crawl away, but skekMal tugged her back to him.

"Oh, no. My blood is high after that hunt. I want to fuck you. But first..."

He guided her head down to one of his engorged cocks, his fingers brushing the scar on her head. Leina yelped, but she didn't dare pull away. She used her lips and tongue to please him, the way he'd taught her, the way the Chamberlain and the skekEkt had taught her, trying not to breathe in his sweat and musk.

"Getting good at this, little whore," said the Hunter. "A much better use for that tongue than your incessant chuntering."

He laid her on her back in the grass, stripping her clothes away layer by layer. He twisted her head and licked the scar on Leina's ear, saliva dripping onto her forehead. She could nothing but shudder beneath his weight, trying to let herself relax so it wouldn't hurt so much.

Afterwards, when skekMal had sunk into one of his more brooding moods, he looked at Leina and said, "I'm teaching you to hunt again tomorrow. You keep your ears open."

"Yes, my Lord."

*

The Emperor rarely received visits in his private chambers; he'd made it clear he did not welcome it, wishing to be alone with his private thoughts and fears. There were more of the latter, as of late, ushered in by the waning sustenance of the Crystal. Alternatives to its colossal power were few and far between, and the Scientist's many experiments had found scarce success. It was this he was mulling over when a knock came at the door, sharp and jarring in the night.

"Who is it?" he snapped, hoping the harshness of his tone would be enough to shoo them away.

"Is Chamberlain, Sire. If Emperor would be so generous to listen I have matter to discuss. Small, true, but cause of whispering. Whispers grow into shouts. _Uproar_."

"Very well," said skekSo, groaning. "Say your piece."

Smiling, skekSil approached, his loathsome hands rubbing lightly together.

"It is Hunter, Sire. Gelfling Guards speak of his servant- no, _worse_ than speaking. Gossip. Rumour, mmm? Say she is... unkempt. Neglected. Perhaps... _misused_."

"The Grottan girl again!"

The first throbbings of a headache began in the Emperor's temple.

"_Really_, skekSil. Have we not already discussed this very matter and come to the conclusion that skekMal and his personal habits are best left alone?"

"Indeed, my Emperor. A wise agreement. But rumours grow. Stories spread of poor, drab Gelfling. Soiled, badly-made clothes, likely to let in elements on long hunts. Gelfling think slave suffers, is cruelty. Is as we thought, Sire; girl makes Skeksis seem _uncaring_."

"This seems... unlikely," said skekSo. "Have we really nurtured them to fixate on such petty details?"

"Appearence is all, Sire; I'm sure you know. Vapra Clan dress finer than Stonewood, and Drenchen finer than _Grottan_."

The Emperor leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes to embrace the throbbing behind his lids.

"They should expect her to look like a vagrant. Isn't it her nature?"

"Oh, my Emperor, girl is not just _Grottan_ Gelfling. Is attendant to _Lord_ _skekMal_. Represents his tastes. _Our_ tastes. Casts doubt in minds."

The throbbing was now a slow, rhythmic knock, making skekSo bite his tongue to quiet it.

"Well, what do you suggest? Drape the child in _our_ robes?"

"Never, Sire. Not ours. skekEkt will happily give girl suitable garments, quite free. Ready-made. No question. Ornamentalist only _glad_ to protect Skeksis name."

"If that's so then _give_ them to the creature. I'm weary of the subject."

"Mmm, but Sire," the Chamberlain wheedled.

Thra, _his voice is unpleasant_.

"But _Sire_, skekMal will be suspicious, refuse to accept gift. Is proud, stubborn, yes? If Emperor convinces Hunter, perhaps then he listens..."

"Alright," said skekSo. "Alright. I'll tell him to accept. Not that it matters; he'll tire of the girl and slaughter her before too long."

At last the Chamberlain withdrew, his thoughtful whining fading into blessed silence.


	15. Whispers In The Kitchens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rumours of the Hunter's Gelfling fall on the wrong ears...

Summons from the castle kitchens came once an unnum, but this time Salys was tempted to decline. Since losing her children she could think of nothing but them, her son dead, her daughter missing, and in the enslavement of some unimaginable beast.

Despite Leina's wishes Salys had combed the woods many times over in search of her, this time without the tracker's help. Having gotten wind of the potential danger the other villagers wanted nothing to do with the rescue mission; they paid respects at Tarron's funeral, but that was all.

Salys had expected that. The villagers' dislike of Leina was an unshakable mix of clan based bias and superstition. The circumstances of the child's arrival at Stone-in-the-Wood had always been considered an ill-tiding, there having been little in the way of murder and tragedy before. Now that Leina was gone the villagers seemed to think this omen had passed, claiming young Tarron as a ritual sacrifice.

It sickened and angered Salys to see her babies so dismissed, yet she'd expected nothing more. Salys had raised her children alone, and she would _grieve_ them alone. Still, when her forest excursions yielded no success Salys fell into a deep depression, leaving the house only for her most basic needs. Her few friends tried to coax her out, but she couldn't face them or their awkward sympathy.

She lay in bed day after day, her head throbbing with a physical ache each time she recalled another thing she missed about her younglings. There were times that Salys tricked herself into thinking she heard their squabbling voices at a distance, smelled their warm, biscuity scents, and cried with such suddenness she frightened herself.

Now and again Salys had the guilty thought that it would've been better if she'd never found her daughter, if she'd assumed both children missing or dead from some unknown cause. Now she jolted herself awake at night from dreams of Tarron shaking in the jaws of some terrible beast, and Leina- Salys didn't like to think what had become of her.

It had been clear from the camp in the woods that whatever creature had taken her children had been _intelligent_, no base animal. There were many unknown species living deep in the forest, people said, and Salys didn't doubt that there was one with true cunning and evil.

How many tales had she told Leina about the Hunter, after all?

Salys had already told her fellow Gelflings of her suspicions, but they'd only looked at her with awkward sympathy, thinking her addled with grief. It was this theory alone that made Salys accept her summons to the castle. Being in close proximity to SkekAyuk, the Gourmand, she might have opportunity to beg for assistance in finding her daughter. The Skeksis were kind, generous, valiant; they'd surely at least _consider_ the notion of sending a hunting party out after a Gelfling-killer.

A few days later Salys travelled to the castle, wheeling a cart packed with the assorted pies, cakes and breads she'd been expected to deliver. She wasn't the only Gelfling on Thra to deliver such delicacies to the castle, but there weren't _many_ more; it was an honour the Gourmand took careful consideration in bestowing, having travelled from village to village sampling appropriate foodstuffs for the Lords' feasts.

Salys usually felt buoyant on the journey there, ever-humbled that her baking reached Skeksis standards. Now she struggled with a mix of hope and painful anxiety, sweat trickling down her back as she carted the confections down into the kitchens.

The Gourmand wasn't there when Salys entered, his Podling minions roving about chopping and steaming chaotically in preparation for the next meal. Salys smiled thinly as they unloaded the cart, wondering if they would allow her to hover long enough to catch the Gourmand before she overstayed her welcome.

As she waited she found herself eavesdropping on the conversations going back and forth between the Podling chefs; having been travelling to the kitchens for over twenty-five trine Salys had picked up a decent smattering of their language. Most of them muttered about the work, or family drama, or parties they had planned, simple, ordinary conversations that made Salys ache for how life had been before her children had gone.

She felt her eyes misting, and quickly rubbed them dry on her sleeve. Then Salys noticed a few of the Podlings were looking at her strangely before quickly glancing away. Keeping her head down Salys attempted to avoid eye contact. Only when she listened more closely did she glance up again, her heart slamming in her chest.

_"Do you remember that Gelfling woman used to bring her daughter here? The green one, who was blind? I hear she serves Lord skekMal now."_

_"Are you sure they're the same?"_

_"Has to be. How many Grottan do you see these days? And blind, too?"_

_"Huh. What use would a blind girl be to a Lord?" _

Salys grabbed the speaking Podling by the arm and shook him, addressing him in a broken mangle of Podling tongue and hers.

"My daughter _here_? In castle? How is this?"

The shaken Podling stared at Salys and answered slowly in the common language.

"You don't _know_ girl come here?"

"No. I haven't seen her in weeks. She went missing. A... a _monster_ took her from me. I've been trying to find her."

Although still clattering about the other Podlings were staring, muttering amongst themselves.

"Well, daughter with Lord skekMal now," said the Podling chef, lowering his voice. "Lord bring girl here few times unnum. Don't know why. Never came much before."

Salys felt weak with joy. Had Lord skekMal _saved_ Leina from that awful creature? It sounded as if he had.

"I must find her. And thank my Lord for his kindness. Can you tell me when exactly they'll be here?"

Another Podling spoke up, an elderly female.

"Lord skekMal dangerous. Other Lords _scared_ of him. Gelfling say monster took daughter? Oshra say monster is _skekMal_."

"_Oshra_!" the male Podling said, looking appalled. "Don't say that."

"What... what do you mean?" Salys stuttered.

Oshra glanced around the kitchen, then leaned in to murmur.

"Lord skekMal have many servants over trine. One by one, all disappear."

"_Oshra_!"

Salys caught hold of the nearest sideboard and held on, her legs growing weak. In her swirling mind she only heard Oshra's words uttered over and over.

"Oshra say monster is skekMal."

_A Lord. A Lord of the Crystal killed my son and took my daughter away._

*

skekMal had begun teaching the Gelfling hunting again, as much as he could without forcing her hand to killing. He hadn't liked the madness in her eyes afterwards, a floating, ghoulish light. The Hunter couldn't be bothered with another crazy Gelfling on his hands, the slow, grinding decay of it. He knew she was already teetering far too close to the edge, but the temptation to push was strong, like the itch of a loose tooth. It took great patience to hold it in, but hold he did.

There would be time for that, when she had regained her vigour again.

First the Hunter began with mimicking animal sounds, showing the girl how to create different cries with a wooden pipe he'd made as a lure. She learned that almost too quickly; skekMal caught her alone one afternoon, using nothing but her mouth and hands to make the sounds. She even created new ones, her ears twitching to catch and copy them all. He should have _guessed_ that was where her talents were, with her pretty singing voice.

After that the Hunter taught Leina the basics of tracking, distinguishing scents, prints, the tiny signs of an animal's passage through the woods. At this she was no good. Her sight made her hesitant and prone to mistakes, and even in the tasks that didn't require her eyes she had no confidence. skekMal bored of her fumblings quickly and sent the girl back to camp, grinning at the dejected slump of her shoulders as she picked her path away through the trees.

skekMal didn't believe for a minute that the girl cared about disappointing him. Any effort she put into learning was for her own self-preservation, to keep his protection. The day in skekEkt's chamber had made an impression; the Gelfling was a silent but dedicated pupil, no longer even mumbling her usual grovelling thanks. skekMal enjoyed the reek of dread on her now, the way it _should_ have been, all along.

After the day's hunt was done the Hunter came back to watch the girl from afar, as he often did. Although unchained she sat as stiffly as though she was, staring at a bit of old fabric in her lap. She tucked it away rapidly as he approached, as if she was embarrassed to be caught looking so vacant.

"Come here," said skekMal. "Those stitches are coming out. Tired of you looking like a rag doll."

The girl trotted to him with wordless obedience, although her face twitched with anxiety. The Hunter gripped her by the chin and used the tip of a small knife to pluck at the stitching on her ear and scalp, admiring how she well she restrained herself against flinching. Only weeks ago she would have squealed like an infant; there was something even _more_ satisfying now in this petrified quiet.

"There, now," said skekMal, rubbing the ridge of the girl's ear with his thumb. "You've more scars on you than a shield maiden."

He felt the Gelfling shudder against his hand. It amused him that a passive touch elicited more reaction than his blade.

"Hateful, aren't you? Won't do you any good. You can hate til the Three Brothers burn out into dust and you'll be as _fucked_ as you were before."

"I know," said the girl.

How coldly she spoke, her mouth made thin with dislike. The Hunter chuckled darkly, rubbing his thumb over the velvet of her lips, between them, and felt them snarl against him.


	16. Eavesdropping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Salys continues the search for her daughter, determined to free her from skekMal

It was halfway through the Gourmand's afternoon nap that a pounding on his bedchamber door jerked him prematurely awake. Wiping drool from his jowls he stood up and strode towards the door, yanking it open so hard that the Podling who had been knocking fell over.

"_Why_ do you disturb me?" snapped skekAyuk. "Unless the kitchen is on fire I'm not interested. I am _resting_."

"Stonewood Gelfling want speak," said the Podling, gibbering pathetically. "Says won't leave unless Lord listens."

"Huh? I'm getting tired of these upstart Gelflings. Send it away."

"Won't leave. Podlings all tried."

"Then find a Lord to see to it who _isn't_ resting."

Grumbling under his breath the Gourmand made to close the door. The Podling wrung its stubby hands, beseeching.

"Gelfling want Lord _skekAyuk_. Said name many times."

"Oh?"

Though not especially interested in the Gelfling race beyond what benefits could be reaped from their toil skekAyuk was not immune to flattery. He liked to think _some_ creature admired him enough to beg for his audience over any of the others. Humming under his breath he followed the Podling, looking forward to preening under a rain of compliments.

Upon reaching the kitchen he was disappointed to find that he recognised the Gelfling in question, a female who made regular deliveries of baked goods. She was usually in the company of another girl whose face the Gourmand couldn't recall.

"Ah, Salys, is it?"

The woman nodded, her wide eyes fixed on his, intense.

"This Podling here says you were eager to speak to me. What is it you want?"

"My Lord, I came to plead for employment. I admire your culinary skill so greatly, it... well, it's my dearest wish to be... to toil in your presence, even if I'm handed the lowest of tasks. Serving the Skeksis is already an honour beyond dreams but it's _you_, my Lord, I cherish most."

Nodding, the Gourmand considered, although he couldn't help grunting, "That's all very well, but couldn't it have _waited_?"

"I've spent weeks working up the courage to ask, my Lord," said the Gelfling, earnestly. "I thought that if I didn't ask for a job now I... well, I thought it might never happen."

Smirking, skekAyuk tilted his head to inspect the Gelfling more closely. She appeared to be around middle age for her species, but still slim and attractive enough, not haggard like Podling women so often were. It might make a pleasant change to have this creature to look at rather than the slaves he was used to.

"Alright, you've convinced me," said the Gourmand. "I have work for you. If you're not needed in the kitchens you'll carry trays to the Lord's rooms with refreshments in between meals. Think you can manage that, little one?"

"Yes my Lord, yes, yes, thank you."

The Gelfling fell to her knees and kissed his robes, her brown eyes actually moist with tears. Taken aback, skekAyuk twitched away.

"_Enough_. Now get to work, if you're so devoted. I'm going back to sleep."

*

Salys spent the following days at the castle, sleeping in her little cart by the stables at night. There was no point returning to Stone-in-the-Wood until she'd managed to see Leina and make contact with her, but the bustle of the ever-working kitchen made it difficult to keep an eye on the traffic pouring in and out of the castle. The Podlings refused to give out any more information, wise enough to keep out of her struggle.

Salys didn't care. She'd gotten _this_ far alone; if she kept her head down and earned enough trust from the Skeksis then she was confident that an opportunity would present itself. Sure enough, by the third day of her employment that moment came. skekAyuk sent her on rounds with plates and wine to sate the Lords' appetites, filling a trolley almost to toppling point. She trundled up and down the castle, her ears pricked for some snatch of gossip regarding her daughter.

Her thoughts were still knocked off-kilter by the concept that the monster who had taken Leina was a Lord of the Crystal. Was he _insane_? It was the only explanation she could think of, but if it was true then she couldn't understand _why_ the others tolerated his madness, allowing him to kill and abduct at will. Allowing him to bring her _stolen daughter_ to the castle for others to witness and comment upon.

Up and down Salys walked until her feet broke out in blisters. Most Lords didn't even answer her knocking, either not in their chambers or uninterested in her offerings. The Ornamentalist was the first to open her door, staring down at Salys with bright, greedy eyes.

"Oh, how _precious_! A Gelfling maidservant! My, _my_, the castle is graced by so many of your kind as of late. How very _fortunate_ we are!"

"Yes, my Lord, truly a blessing," said Salys.

She was genuinely awed to be in skekEkt's company, shivering with raw anxiety as she entered the room and unloaded plates onto a waiting table.

"Might as well give us the whole lot, eh, skekSil? The others are attending some musical display and _really_, after orchestrating so many rehearsals I'm quite sure I can bear to miss an hour of it."

Salys jumped. She hadn't noticed the Chamberlain in the room, secreted onto a nearby couch the same colour as his sumptuous robes.

"Yes, yes, most certainly we can," said skekSil, eyeing Salys for a moment before turning away again. "Still have much to discuss. To _dissect_."

"Do we really?" mused skekEkt, fluttering a lace fan before her face. "I thought it was decided. With the Emperor, I mean."

Salys shuffled glasses and crockery about, her eyes fixed downwards, feigning deafness. Relevant or not, Skeksis gossip was something Gelfling were rarely privy to.

"Emperor will speak in our favour, true," said the Chamberlain. "But skekMal is... _strong-willed_. Scientist says next week is last he will visit before hunt takes him again. He may not see reason in time."

"Then we must hope, mustn't we?" said the Ornamentalist, coyly. "It will be a shame if our little mischief doesn't come to pass. I've quite tired of his strutting about with his pretty trophy, behaving as though he weren't the Emperor's mad pet. Who would have thought it? A _pet_ keeping a pet! Oh."

She seemed to notice Salys again and clicked her beak.

"You have spare time, don't you, Gelfing? Run along into my dressing room over there and tidy my things. Fold them away, or hang them as you see fit, there's a good girl."

"Yes, my Lord," said Salys.

Pulse strumming violently Salys hurried into the other room and put her ear to the door. She could scarcely believe her fortune, and the carelessness of the Skeksis discussing such matters in front of her. It had never occurred to her to think of the Lords as arrogant before; such terms were blasphemy. But it was the only reason she could think they wouldn't be more careful with their words in her earshot.

"Where are gifts for the girl?" asked skekSil, his voice somewhat muffled by the door.

"Oh, I've put them in a bag in the dressing room. Clothes, strong shoes, anything she'd need for a long journey. The Hunter can scarcely question her need for _that_. He's planning another faway venture, I hear. Still complaining the Scientist has driven off all his quarry, or some such nonsense."

"But skekMal does not _trust_ Ornamentalist," said the Chamberlain. "Would be angered by further... attentions towards Gelfling."

"I'm no fool, skekSil; I'll have a Podling deliver the gifts. But really, I _cannot_ fathom skekMal's reactions towards me. As I said, he's quite unaware of our dalliance. Utterly ignorant! And that is the way it shall remain."

_Dalliance_? Salys choked on a breath. The inference of the term was scarcely subtle, and she was beginning to understand exactly why Leina had been spared when Tarron was not.

"It _offends_ me, Chamberlain," skekEkt continued in a dramatic drawl, "that the Hunter was _so_ affected by the simple _suggestion_ of my toying with the girl whereas you had your way with her and- _nothing_! Not a word! _Thra_, imagine if he knew I'd really done it. I'd never hear the end of it. Perhaps he's jealous of my allure."

"Who knows Hunter's mind? Not Chamberlain. No Skeksis but skekMal knows. But! But! I predict _fascinating_ drama if girl manages escape. We play waiting game. See if she has courage to try."

"I cannot imagine she will last long, by wing or by foot. The little idiot won't have the faintest notion of where to go. _Quite_ the waste."

Salys fell away from the door, her knees folding beneath her. She didn't know how to handle the horror and disgust of what she'd heard from the mouths of her gracious Lords. Their base scheming, purely for mere entertainment. Worse still, the two had clearly assaulted her daughter in some regard, were gloating about it- what could her sweet, mischievous girl have possibly done to deserve such cruelty?

Frantic, Salys scanned the room for something that could be used to make a note. While Leina couldn't read there were particular symbols she _could_ understand, enough to help her get away from her jailer. The Ornamentalist and the Chamberlain were relying on Leina's poor eyesight, no doubt, along with her lack of geographic knowledge. Salys had already been devising a plan, even a timeline for it. If she could _only_ make Leina understand-

A pot of cosmetic lay forgotten under a pile of velvet. Salys snatched it up, found a similarly discarded scrap of pale fabric and quickly daubed upon it. Once finished she hurried to tidy the room, checking each pile of crumpled garments for anything remotely matching the vague description skekEkt had given. At last her hand fell upon a drawstring cloth bag that, upon inspection, had clothing and shoes inside it. The Lords never seemed to don footwear; it could only be the 'gift' they intended for Leina, although Salys knew it was no true gift at all.

After tucking the note in amongst the clothing Salys returned to the chamber where the Chamberlain and the Ornamentalist were still murmuring together. She bobbed a small bow, seizing hold of the food trolley the moment it seemed polite to do so.

"I must go, my Lords. I'll be needed in the kitchens," she babbled, and was gone, skidding down the corridor as if an angered Nurloc was at her heels.

*

The morning they were to visit the castle again Leina was awakened by skekMal's cock between her legs, taking her from behind. She squirmed in a tangle of furs and his squeezing arms, then slackened, knowing a fight would only arouse him more. He flicked a talon between her labia, the tender spot that always jerked that spark of hateful pleasure. Gritting her teeth Leina tried to think of other things: the taste of dirt, the number of freckles on Tarron's cheeks, anything to drive that climax away.

"You're stiff as a sword, girl," the Hunter growled against her neck. "Stubborn little bitch."

Leina was glad that he couldn't see her face flushing, the vein beating in her forehead. Despite it all her wetness soon slicked his fingers, and the Hunter purred with cruel smugness at his success. Leina decided, then, to think of the others she hated rather than him: slithering skekSil, the falsely pleasant skekEkt. _They_, at least, were not _him_.

Her orgasm came in a sick, shivering rush, and skekMal buried his cock so deep in his own that the pain made her yelp.

"You think of this when we go to that fucking castle," said skekMal, clambering over her and out of the tent. "My girl. No making eyes at the Emperor. I'll rip them out."

So it was pride that had woken skekMal hard, then. Leina shook her head wearily and dressed herself, mentally preparing for the day. She wound a rag around her head; although she hadn't seen her scars in any reflection she knew they were fearsome, and letting the other Gelfling see them would only ignite skekMal's rage.

As she sat at her place beside the fire for breakfast the Hunter said, "You haven't been eating. You look like an old crone."

"I've... been unwell, my Lord," said Leina.

She had, in fact, been attempting to eat more than usual, knowing she'd need her strength for an escape, but the guilt of putting food in her mouth made it a gruelling process.

"Huh. Brought that on yourself."

Leina didn't respond. She stared into her lap, wanting dearly to look at her little stitched plan, consider how to fill the gaps. skekMal, clearly discontented with her silence, spoke again.

"Don't you start thinking life will be any easier when you get your sight. I'll be putting you to work. _Hard_. Know that, don't you?"

Another silence. She only twitched her head to indicate she'd heard him.

"First thing I'll do is test you. See how far you can run before I catch your arse."

This time Leina looked up and stared at the Hunter, rigid with alarm. What did he know? _How_ did he know?

But then she made out his beak, open in a sneer, and realised he was only taunting her, the same way he always did.


	17. Crushing The Flower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The slave is brought before the Emperor

skekMal didn't particularly _want_ to visit the castle again, but there was no way to improve the Gelfling's usefulness without allowing the Scientist to finish his work. The girl seemed equally reluctant, her small face tight, brooding. This was nothing new, not on the surface, but the Hunter thought he sensed a tension about her, like the pressure in the air before heavy rain. But perhaps the girl was only sulking after that morning's roll; she seemed to hate being forced to climax even more than the fucking itself.

This time the Hunter didn't let her wash his smell away before the day's journey. If she was to stand before the Emperor then skekMal wanted her ripe, unmistakably his. The scent would be some deterent, a reminder that he would defend his property even against a monarch, if he made advances on her. It was doubtful that he _would_, skekSo being rather less stupid than his brethren. But the Hunter refused to take chances, having no trust even in his Emperor, not completely.

The castle enraged him now more so than ever, its oppressive luxury seeming to curdle. At least the girl no longer goggled about in slack-jawed awe; after the usual meeting with the Scientist she kept her head down to the floor, huddled in the makeshift cowl that covered her scarring. From time to time she plucked the fabric with her fingers, fraying the edges.

"Nervous, are you?" said the Hunter.

She nodded slightly, but didn't speak.

"Hmph. Save your fear. He won't touch you."

skekMal caught the quick pressing of her lips, recognising it as disbelief.

"What did I tell you, girl? You learn to hunt. I'll guard your holes. I'll honour my word."

He kicked out at her, shoving her further behind him as they approached the throne room. It wouldn't do to have the girl cling to his robes like an infant to its mother's skirts. A few paces back she had the right look of a slave, even down to the hanging of her head.

"Sire," skekMal said gruffly, striding across the throne room. "I've brought the slave, as you asked. Not much to look at though, is she?"

The Emperor, who sat alone on his vast, ornate throne inclined his head towards the Gelfling.

"An honour as always, Hunter. As for the girl, I can scarcely tell _what_ she is, with her cowering behind you like that. Come forward, Gelfling."

Snorting, skekMal allowed the little creature to pass. He ripped the rag from her head, exposing her scarred ear and scalp. She put her hands up in shame, only lowering them when the Hunter made a warning sound in his throat.

"So she _is_ Grottan," said skekSo. "Have you expanded your hunt to the caves, then?"

"No, Emperor. She's an orphan. I killed her parents, many trine past. Who knows what they were doing so far from home. I only know they died quickly, but managed to hide this squit amongst the Stonewood clan before I took her too."

"I have concerns, skekMal," said the Emperor, cautiously. "That you're too bold with your killing and taking of the Gelfling. I've overlooked a few missing, here and there, even your tastes for plunder. But you keeping a slave so _publicly_ is... unorthodox. I understand that after your visits here you're unlikely to display her in court again, but at least before you depart for the hunt you might honour a request of mine to still some wagging tongues."

"A request? Ask it then."

skekMal was irritated by the conversation. _Of course_ there was gossip in the castle; that had always been the way, and it was certainly no interest of _his_ now that he'd become its subject.

"Your brothers have put together certain gifts to make the girl more useful on your journey. Suitable clothing, for one thing. You cannot deny that harsher elements will require something more substantial. It will benefit you as much as satisfy any observing Gelfling that your _pet's_ wellbeing is seen to. What good will she be if she freezes to death, or passes from heatstroke?"

"There's a point," the Hunter muttered.

The girl had barely raised her eyes to the Emperor's throne but her ears were twitching violently as she listened. No doubt she pitied herself over the hard road that lay ahead. She'd known nothing all her life but the quiet woods, after all.

"A Podling will deliver it to you before you depart," said the Emperor. "It would please me if you could be seen to take it. Crush any concerned whispers. And there have certainly been many, even amongst our brothers."

"Envy," said the Hunter. "They crave her. Or something like her."

"Naturally. We Lords deny ourselves nothing; little wonder we too desire pleasures of the flesh."

"Why only _desire_? Why _not_ take? You talk as if the Gelfling don't already spread their legs eagerly for you in secrecy. Even _this_ one would have, before, if you'd asked her."

The Hunter nodded towards the cringing girl. Running his tongue across his teeth the Emperor leaned forward, his many jewels clinking together.

"Then why take her by brute force?"

"No point in hunting livestock. You lot at the castle might be content with your tame animals. I prefer breaking them in."

Bored of the conversation the Hunter turned his back on the Emperor and skulked for the door. Without being asked the girl followed, her pattering footsteps falling into rhythm with his.

"Wasn't so terrible, was it?" said skekMal, the minute they were out of the Emperor's earshot. "He barely looked at you."

There was no response from the girl, although her breathing seemed irregular, hitching. After glancing around the empty corridor the Hunter turned and jerked the Gelfling into the light. He was stunned to see that she was crying, her face a mask of snot and tears.

"What's this for?" he snapped. "Sorry he didn't try for your cunt like skekSil?"

The Gelfling frisked her head from side to side, gasping and swallowing in an attempt to halt her tears.

"Answer me, idiot. Your silence irritates me as much as your chattering."

"He... he's the _same_," the girl gasped, at last. "The same as the others. All of you. I thought... even though it was silly, I hoped maybe..."

skekMal grinned and pushed the girl up against a nearby stony wall.

"Stupid little wet-face. Had yourself set on the Emperor having a heart. He doesn't _care_ about you, slave. Not you, not your useless kind. He only cares for himself and his own lusts. See, now, how pointless it is to hope? How many times have I said it?"

"Y-yes, my lord, I see," the girl sobbed.

It aroused him to see her distress, the frailty of it. He snaked his talons up her tunic, crushed her breasts flat against the bone.

"You think I don't see you sat on your own, thinking of ways to slip by me? If you did you'd have no one, no where to go, little pariah. Your kind would turn _against_ you, the runaway servant. They'd hand you back to me faster than you can blink. They worship the Emperor. Love him more than their own. Thought you'd learned that by now."

Fruitlessly the girl rolled in his grip, whimpering. She was soft, wilting like a torn flower. He decided to take her there, damn the risks. With his free hand skekMal exposed her tight little twat and bucked himself inside her, hitching her fragile body further up the wall. He ran his beak across her face, tasting the salt of her tears.

"Could have let him have you. I was good to you. Ungrateful slattern."

He found himself enjoying her prettiness, the horror of it overpowered by his cruelty. Most beautiful were those odd, staring eyes, awash with tears, bleak as clouded glass. He stared into them as he finished, watching them flicker closed over another spurt of tears.

There was a quick rustling at the very end of the corridor. The Hunter turned, eyes narrowed, but the space was empty. If there _had_ been anyone there they had gone, frightened away by his threatening bulk.


	18. Different Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plans are unfolding, and change is afoot

Through whisperings in the kitchen Salys learned that skekMal had been seen in the castle again with his girl at his side. _Salys'_ girl. Her Leina. The Podlings all eyed her apprehensively, knowing that Salys was keen to every word. No doubt they expected her to fly into some frenzy of emotion, dragging them all into hot water. But, as tempting as it was, she did not.

Holding together a semblance of calm Salys approached the Gourmand, who was frying something alive in oil and smacking his lips over its agonized shrieks.

"My Lord, I've made up a new batch of butter biscuits this morning- I know Lord skekOk has taken a recent liking to them. May I have permission to deliver them to him? I know the kitchen is busy, but it would take no time at all."

"Of course, little eager one," said skekAyuk, tossing an almost fond glance in her direction. "You make yourself _more_ than useful, don't you? By Thra, take a day off if you like. I won't tell a soul."

Salys bobbed a bow, swallowing her misapprehension. Only a few days ago she'd been honoured by skekAyuk's interest in her talents, but now that she knew at least three of the Lords had wicked intent the Gourmand couldn't be trusted to be different. Loading up her trolley Salys left the kitchen, ignoring the Podlings muttering behind her.

She had to see her daughter. _Had_ to, if only for a moment, in spite of the dangers. The Podlings hadn't mentioned _where_ in the castle skekMal frequented, but Salys had her suspicions. After all, she couldn't imagine such an animal rubbing shoulders with the pompous Ritual Master or frivolous skekEkt, whom skekMal apparently disliked. Of all of the Skeksis the Emperor seemed the most likely to receive a visit, although for what reason Salys didn't like to think.

Knowing the throne room was where skekSo accepted any audience she went directly to it, praying that she wasn't wrong. She dawdled a little in the nearest corridor under the pretence her trolley wheel had become caught on something, keeping her eyes on the entrance. Gelfling guards and Podlings filed by, barely casting Salys a second glance. Over their chatterings she thought she could hear the muffled sound of voices from within the throne room, but perhaps it was only wishful thinking.

Straining her ears Salys willed the doors to open. Sooner or later she'd have to move on, and she couldn't bear the idea of doing so without at least a glimpse of Leina. The minutes edged by with dreadful slowness, making her itch with impatience.

Then it happened.

The throne room doors swung open, parted by a vast, red-robed creature moving so quickly and with such unbridled aggression that, at first, Salys wasn't sure that it was a Skeksis at all. Then it turned its awful head and despite the grisly mask pinned to its skull she understood that this was _him_.

_skekMal_.

The monster who had slaughtered her son. The monster who had kidnapped and defiled her daughter.

Salys shrank against the wall, trying to avoid the acid rake of his gaze. She felt the evil pouring off him like steam, saw it in the wizened tokens and skulls dangling like medals from his belt. Weapons jounced at his side, the metal glinting like disembodied fangs in the dim light. Bile collected at the back of Salys' throat as she realised those blades had cut her darling boy to pieces. She couldn't help wondering how they'd done it, whether they'd slit his belly to the open air or cut him clean.

Then she sucked in a breath. Trotting reluctantly at skekMal's heels like a beaten dog was a small, gaunt figure, struggling to wrap its head in a loose rag. Its face turned, and the hollow eyes that passed over Salys were milk-white.

"My baby."

Salys whispered it over and over, not daring to utter a name for fear the towering creature would perceive it. But only the girl did, her Leina. The vast eyes welled with sudden tears, and the haggard face somehow softened. As the Skeksis strode down the opposite corridor Leina hung back, mouthing at Salys.

_"You can't be here. It's not safe. Why did you come?"_

Salys only managed to whisper another few words before Leina scurried after skekMal again.

"To help you."

The agony of not being able to hold her, to wrench her from that monster was maddening. Leaving her trolley behind Salys crept down the corridor after her daughter, merely to watch her retreat til the last possible moment. She could have fallen to the floor and wept, but instead she kept inching forward, keeping _just_ far enough that she couldn't be spotted.

It was a decision that she'd always regret.

In an inexplicable flurry of violence the Skeksis flattened Leina to a wall, his hands tearing at her like a starving man at meat. Salys wanted to look away, but her horror transfixed her, her joints turned into stone. She watched her girl weeping, thrashing, her crushed wings twitching against the wall, the coarse thrusting of the beast. She heard him taunting Leina, his words beyond cruelty. His gall in practicing such brutality so openly shocked her, opening a sour pit in her gut.

Only when skekMal groaned his release did Salys retreat from the corridor, quivering so hard she bit the inside of her cheek bloody. 

*

Since leaving the castle all Leina could think was '_I saw my mother. She found me.'_

It had made made her feel so helpless, seeing Salys and being unable to fall into her arms or even acknowledge her presence aloud. Only her tears had given anything away, but by now it was so easy to pass off any emotion as weakness that skekMal barely questioned her excuses. He seemed gloatingly pleased with her misery, then glad to ignore her, and indeed anything other than his own thoughts.

On the way out of the castle gates a Podling attempted to stop the Hunter, a heavy bag loaded in its arms. skekEkt's gift, though thankfully the Emperor had said nothing of _that._

"Give it to the girl," snapped skekMal. "I've no time for worthless fancies."

He barely raised his head when Leina opened it back at their camp, only spitting into the fire when she laid the bag's contents out on the grass. skekEkt had kept her word, packing three garments made of strong cloth and hard leather with a set of sturdy boots, all tightly stitched. Although Leina didn't know exactly what to expect in her bid to freedom she was suddenly able to imagine trekking long, treacherous distances, as hardy as a Spriton girl. 

After glancing up to check the Hunter was occupied with stoking the fire Leina rifled through the bag again, noticing a rag causing a lump at the very bottom. She opened it carefully, trying not to look to interested in it. There were symbols on the rag, similar to the sort Leina used in her own embroidered plan. A stick figure Gelfling stood cowered beneath a bird-like being, then was flying away in its next depiction, bordered by twelve sets of the Three Brothers-

_Twelve days. That's what it means._

But twelve days to _what_? Leina felt her heart stutter over a beat. She ran her finger under the next symbols, trying to decipher them. There were trees surrounded on each side by a different symbol- the sigils of each Gelfling clan and, thus, their locations. In the far North-western part of the trees was a bow-legged animal with a dark circle beside it, clearly marking the spot.

_A landstrider_? _But why-_

Leina closed her hand over the fabric, realisation coming in a giddy rush. It _had_ to be a map to aid her escape, an idea she'd expressed to no-one. The drawings _seemed_ to suggest a landstrider would be waiting for her in the forest in just twelve days, unless she'd misunderstood. Landstriders were fast creatures, cutting distances like walking blades. The steeds of folklore adventurers, providing safe crossing from perilous lands. If Leina succeeded in acquiring one she could head in any direction she wanted and find sanctuary, she was sure of it, even if she had to hide in some barren mountain.

But _who_ had given her the note? It seemed unlikely that skekEkt or any other Skeksis had done so, even with nefarious intentions; none of them were so stupid as to risk skekMal's ruthless anger again if they were caught. No, it could only be her mother. It was the only answer that made sense. Leina had forgotten that Salys still visited the castle kitchens from time to time, although she'd always kept strictly to servants quarters. It seemed obvious now that Salys had somehow twisted that privilege to get a message to Leina, to make her understand that she wasn't alone. That there was hope.

If she could _only_ slip away from skekMal long enough to follow this vague little plan.

Guiltily Leina considered how much risk her mother must have taken at her expense. _Would_ take, for landstriders were far from easy to come by. There was no way Leina could allow this chance to pass her, for if she failed one like it would never come again.

Deftly she secreted the map into her pocket with her old plan and the Chamberlain's hairbrush, and returned to her old, well-worn track of plotting. She'd hoped the following days would be rammed with more hunting lessons, keen to gather as much information as she could before the fateful day came. But skekMal left her behind at camp twice in a row, tersely refusing her tentative requests to join him.

"A little too keen, aren't you?" he growled. "Don't go trying to use my own tricks against me; I'm not as stupid as you think. There's some I'll never teach you. You're no equal of mine."

"My Lord. I... I'm only trying to be useful."

skekMal looked at Leina with such disdain that she dropped her eyes, flushing.

"Your lies are worse than your sight. You've no love of killing. I remember when I first saw you. A little girl, afraid, throwing meat into the forest in the hopes of distracting some beast."

Leina cringed away from the memory, almost shocked by it. It seemed so laughably naive, an idiot's logic.

"I'm different now," she said, softly.

The Hunter grunted.

"Not by much. But if you ever get a taste for blood, hark this. l'll only let you finish my prey if I have to. This sport is mine."


	19. Two Beasts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> skekMal decides to hunt at night.

The night before they were to visit the castle for the last time skekMal roughly shook Leina awake.

"Wake up, slave," he grunted. "You're coming on a hunt."

"But it's... still _dark_, my Lord," said Leina, slurring with sleep.

"What difference does it make to _you_, blindling? Rise. Besides, I used to hunt day and night, before you, little burden."

Blearily, Leina did so, patting her pocket to make sure the concealed blade of skekSil's brush was there. If she ever left it where skekMal could find it he would either throw it away out of pettiness and scupper her escape plans or _worse_, discover her secret. Leina closed her eyes against a dozen potential grisly ends- her screaming throat stopped by a blade, her heart cleaved from her ribcage -and shook herself. She couldn't let herself sink into a fear that might never be.

"This is yours," said the Hunter as Leina climbed stiffly from the tent. "You don't need anything bigger than a knife. I'm making the kill tonight."

Swallowing her anxiety Leina accepted the cold blade. It felt wrong in her hand, like a sentient evil, waiting to bite as it had the Fizzgig, not so long ago.

"_What_ are we Hunting, my Lord?" Leina asked, tentatively.

"Arathim. Heard one of them scuttling in the thick of the woods. A big one."

Leina stopped, a clammy shimmer of fear washing over her.

"I've heard stories about them, my Lord. People say some of them have such hard shells they can't be killed."

"Not this one," skekMal grunted. "It's a scout, weaker than a Spitter, though not by much. They're always on the move seeking new homelands. They won't find them here."

He began unwrapping his weapons and secreting them on his person, the glint of metal in the gloom making Leina feel sick.

"But... my Lord... even a weak one, the Arathim, I... I'm not good enough at hunting to help you. I make too much noise. I'm clumsy. I'll draw attention."

skekMal turned to look at her, his teeth flashing in an unpleasant grin.

"That's what I want you for. Pretty little bait."

Sweat broke out in the back of Leina's neck. She stepped back towards the tent, shaking her head.

"It will kill me."

The Hunter reached out and knotted his fist in the front of her dress, hauling her up on her toes.

"Do you think me incapable of defending my property? If I wanted you dead I'd cut your belly open where you stand. Now cease your fucking whining and do as I tell you to."

Having no other option Leina obeyed, allowing the Hunter to shove her out into the woods. She was to wander out to the East, he told her, make noise and alert the creature to her presence. He was to approach the Arathim from the other side, undetected, and thus defeat it with little struggle.

"Don't let it bite you, youngling," skekMal said, before turning to slip between the trees. "Their venom burns through flesh."

Leina shuddered. Was this another of the Hunter's cruel games or merely part of his teaching? Both, she supposed; they were one and the same. At least observing the Hunter in close combat would prepare Leina for what it might come to if she failed to escape him. She might even learn his physical weaknesses, if he had any under his fearsome exterior.

A small, bitter voice inside her laughed at that.

_'Fool, what makes you think you could beat him even when you get your sight? You are small and slow and fragile. He's beaten you over and over, he could kill you with one hand. What makes you think-'_

"No," Leina whispered. "Stop. I _have_ to try."

She walked through the woods with caution, following her usual routine of using a stick to feel the way ahead of her for obstacles or forgotten traps. By now she'd started to learn parts of the woods she'd never dared venture before the Hunter, using natural landmarks like peculiar stumps or fallen trees to chart out a mental map. skekMal hadn't indicated where exactly he wanted her to go, nor how far; perhaps he expected her to walk until the Arathim was upon her.

Something was rustling in a thicket ahead of her, something big. Leina considering turning and taking flight back in the direction she'd come, but failing the Hunter was likely worse than an attack by some unknown beast. She stopped where she was, her fingers knotted around her blade so tight her knuckles ached.

With only the slimmest gleam of moonlight to see by Leina's blighted vision was no more than smeared black, but she thought she could feel herself being watched keenly, the way she often felt the Hunter's eyes. For a moment Leina was tempted to call out and appeal to the creature, warn it that there was an even greater monster at its heels. But she remembered how skekMal had laughed at her in the woods all those weeks ago, mocking her kind heart, and knew that even if the Arathim understood her language it was unlikely to listen to her.

The thicket rustled harder, and something vast and many-legged scurried between the trees like a living shadow. As the moonlight crossed its gleaming hide Leina perceived dripping mandibles, limbs like vast, bristling needles.

She screamed, falling back into the grass, her weapon help up in a futile stance. The Arathim reared on its hind legs over her, blocking out the moon. Then a hideous pitch shrilled from it and the creature rounded on itself, staggering somewhat.

Leina moaned in relief. skekMal was standing behind the Arathim, all four swords drawn. In the dark Leina could see very little of him, but she could smell the blood on his blades.

"Pay attention, slave," he growled.

Leina didn't need to be told twice. Crawling backwards she stared as the two monsters faced one another, the Arathim hissing, skekMal rumbling under his breath. In a split second they were at each other, rolling over and over in the grass, the Arathim's limbs sweeping like scythes. The Hunter's cloak was torn from his shoulder and he roared, flesh rending audibly. He jabbed at the beast, and while Leina couldn't make out much more than an indistinct blur she felt the thud as a severed leg hit the ground

Again the creatures rolled, then fell apart, skekMal panting, his mask askew, the Arathim quivering with bloodloss. Leina was frozen with terrified awe. She'd never seen skekMal take on such a large or hostile opponent before, and despite herself she was amazed by how formidable he remained against such a foe.

"Lie down and die, _spider_," said skekMal.

He turned his head, spitting blood into the grass.

"I've killed a hundred of your brethren before; you'll join them before the Brothers rise."

The Arathim let out a screech of fury and barrelled at the Hunter, bowling him flat. Leina thought, _"This is my chance. While they're fighting this is my chance."_

Suddenly it didn't matter that this wasn't the chosen day, or that she wouldn't survive without her careful plans. She scrambled backwards through the grass, putting as much distance between herself and the grappling beasts as she could. It was only when Leina pulled herself up to stand that she heard a grisly crunch and a squeal like some alien machine.

_No_.

The Hunter stood in the moonlight, his whole body heaving, holding one of the Arathim's dripping fangs aloft. The slain beast lay mutilated in the grass, cleaved almost in half. Leina was too pained with disappointment to even pity it. She thought about breaking a run anyway, taking her chances, but skekMal was looking at her with that familiar, dangerous head tilt, staring down the length of his mask.

"Going to run, are you, Leina? Even cut through I'd have you in three paces. Don't chance my blade."

Leina barked out a wordless, angry cry, throwing her knife into the grass. She wished she had the guts to square up to the Hunter as the Arathim had, further gouging his open wounds. She wished she hadn't made herself the promise to outlive him.

"Pick it up," skekMal said, softly. "And come here."

Slowly Leina did as he asked, tripping over herself in the dark. She stepped around the Arathim's corpse, then paused, crouching briefly to place a hand on its still brow.

"You _respect_ it," said skekMal. "It would have wrapped you in its filth and devoured you, girl."

"Yes. But it.. was brave," said Leina.

Her voice was so quiet that she could barely even hear herself.

"It was a worthy enough adversary, I'll give it that," skekMal grunted. "But it died like they all do: on its back, screaming. Still, I'll carry its strength with me."

He pocketed the Arathim's fang and shook himself. Blood scattered in a fine mist, soaking Leina's gown.

"Your turn to play nurse, little one. I've wounds to tend to."

*

Back at the camp the Hunter had Leina wash and stitch his injuries, barely wincing as the sewing needle passed through his flesh. It was disconcerting to be so close to him and not be suffering, his smell heavy in her nostrils. Touching his bare skin felt so intimate that her face flushed, and she hurried to get the job done.

"What are you blushing for, childling?" the Hunter slurred. "You're no virgin. You've had your hands on worse parts of me."

He'd been drinking celebratory grog since they'd returned, and the loss of blood had made the alcohol hit him particularly hard. Biting a thread Leina muttered, "Yes, my Lord. I know."

"Bitter little pup," said the Hunter.

He fumbled a coarse hand through her hair, his thumb running over the scar as he so frequently did since it had healed. Not even bothering to hide her distaste Leina wrenched her head away, and when skekMal attempted to grope her a second time he missed, drunkenly off-kilter. Leina stared at him, stunned. She'd never seen him miss a target before, not even while under the influence.

"Come here," said the Hunter. "Don't look at me like that. I'm too tired to fuck you."

He pulled her into his lap and dragged his talons through her hair as if she were a dog, looking at her with heavy eyes. Leina stiffly allowed it, her mind racing.

She knew now how she'd evade him on that final day, an idea so achingly simple that she was ashamed that she hadn't thought of it sooner.

She would get him too drunk to stand, then she would run. She would _fly_.


	20. New Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At long, long last the girl has her sight. skekMal decides to test how sharp it really is.

It felt as though many trine had passed since the day skekMal had made the Scientist examine Leina's eyes, the weeks strained far past their natural span. Yet now the last session was upon them it seemed sudden, like the finale of some magician's trick. The Hunter was glad of it, having long tired of the routine. He was aching for the potential hunts that lay ahead, and although he didn't require the girl's sight to pursue them he was curious how she'd perform, her fumbling skills pushed to their limit.

skekMal's expectations were not high. He'd seen the way the girl had tumbled spinelessly before the Arathim, her eyes and mouth agape, her dagger-hand flailing. Her empathy even for such creatures would make her a poor hunter, or else drive her mad. He'd never intended to make her as _he_ was, of course, only a handmaiden; she had, however, been _excellent_ bait. There would be great use for her when they travelled to better hunting grounds.

As skekMal watched the Scientist fit the wire-framed eye glasses to the girl's face he noticed that something was different about her, something he couldn't place. Was it that she seemed to be sitting a little straighter, or that her eyes, which he'd taken such pride in bringing to tears, were dry, focused, hard? It was only to be expected, skekMal supposed. The little blind bitch was itching to really _see_ for the first time in her wretched life, to take in trees and flowers and her fucking embroidery.

And if there _were_ any grand ideas of escape brewing behind those flinty eyes of hers it would be easy enough to beat them out of her again.

"There, child," said skekTek. "How is your sight now?"

"I... I..."

The girl was trembling visibly, her pale face twitching right and left. The Hunter felt her eyes rake him up and down, obviously repulsed by him. She raised her hands, clearly intending to remove the glasses.

"Keep them on," the Hunter snapped. "Better get used to the sight of me. You'll be looking up at my face every night."

"Are you quite well, Gelfling?" skekTek interrupted. "No dizziness, nausea?"

The girl shook her head, although she looked as if she might empty her breakfast onto the floor at any moment.

"Then what is it?" the Scientist snapped. "I must know how well they function."

"I... can see, my Lord," the girl said. "But I... I'd prefer not to."

Growling, skekMal slapped the girl across the back of the head, almost knocking the glasses off her nose.

"Hold your cheek and answer his fucking questions so we can leave this place."

The Hunter saw the girl's expression veer into a scowl, then quickly grow neutral when he raised his hand again.

"Everything has so many _details_, my Lord," the girl spat out, at last. "_Too_ many. There are parts that are... misty, though. I can't see through them."

"In some places your eye is too damaged to recover," said the Scientist. "But the rest- I have succeeded. An accomplished task; whatever defect damaged your sight was complex to work against."

skekTek glanced back at the Hunter.

"You'll be travelling now, if I recall? Keep the eye glasses safe in this when they're not in use. They're delicate and easy damaged."

He pushed a small metal case at the Hunter, which he snatched and buried in his robes.

"Aye, we'll be away once my wounds have healed some more. Once I'm certain the girl will last a day outside the Endless Forest."

Gesturing for the Gelfling to follow at his heel the Hunter strode for the laboratory door. She slipped down from her seat and quickly joined him, muttering her thanks to the Scientist as she did so. With the shawl covering her scars and her queer lenses she looked like an old crone, but she walked upright and steady, unfaltering. It was some miracle that a mere piece of glass could make such a change.

"You don't have much to say for yourself," the Hunter said, once they were beyond the castle again.

"Thank you for helping me see, my Lord," the girl murmured in a flat, mechanical voice.

"Don't sound like you mean it much. What's your grievance, slave?"

"I wouldn't wish to _offend_ my Lord."

"Hmm," the Hunter grunted, half-amused. "You've already hinted you're sickened by the sight of me; what could offend more than that?"

The girl, who had been looking around listlessly, dropped her head a little.

"How can I enjoy anything when I'm not free? It's like looking through the bars of a cage."

"Ungrateful bitch. Be glad I let you walk with me and don't tie you up at the camp again where you rightfully belong. Perhaps you'd prefer it, little seamstress."

"You _know_ what I'd prefer."

By now they were amongst the trees again, shielded from onlookers. skekMal rounded on the girl, grinning. Her sullen, argumentative mood was as good an excuse to punish her as any, but he held back, seeing an opportunity for play.

"Oh, I know what you dream of. A knife in my back as you flee home to your stinking Stonewood mother, same as every other Gelfling I ever made a pet of. I want to see you try to outrun me now you can see. You'll give me better sport than you did that first day, blindling."

"No," said the girl.

Her spectacled eyes were dark with resentment.

"When you catch me you'll hurt me."

"I'll hurt you _more_ if you defy me. Make your choice."

The girl's pretty face twitched, and he sensed how weary she was of him, of her suffering. He thought she'd merely submit to a thrashing when she said, suddenly, "You shouldn't hunt so soon, my Lord. You'll only tear open your stitches. The wounds will slow you down."

She was _taunting_ him. Although her tone was meek and innocent he tasted her spite, like bile, and it stirred him.

"Better run, Gelfling. You'll see how slow I am."

The girl turned, her shawl fluttering free of her white hair, and darted further into the trees, her gait so different from her usual cautious stumbling that skekMal felt the raw thrill of the hunt rise in him at once. He followed slowly at first, watching her pelt through the woods as lightly as a child. She wasn't particularly fast, but her speed was enough to make him cautious of letting her stray too far.

Her head swung about, surveying the different paths ahead of her, and they was something beautiful in the arch of her neck, the way her calves curved and flexed as she ran. The Hunter imagined how could it would feel to bite that pretty neck as he took her from behind, her legs kicking beneath him. He upped his pace, springing lithely between the trees.

The girl glanced back over her shoulder, her spectacles winking in the sunlight. She, too, wasn't running as fast as she could have done, clever enough to understand that the game was not to be played in earnest. Yet as the Hunter thought this she unfurled her wings and took to the air, twisting away at far greater velocity than he would ever have expected.

_Tricksy little cunt._

Roaring, skekMal vaulted into the trees, swinging between them with ease despite the throbbing of his wounds. The girl was several feet ahead, her silvery wings a blur. Again she looked back at him, her face a knot of anger and misery. He knew how dearly she longer to escape him, and did not dare. _Knew_ that she could not. Yet she seemed unable to help pushing further and further forward, releasing little moans as in her inexperience she misjudged her path and bumped up against long branches.

After a minute or two they were above the river, its roaring muffling the girl's panting cries. Suddenly she jerked upwards, clearly aiming to break the canopy and evade skekMal at a height he couldn't reach. Unsheathing one of his smaller blades he threw it at her back, a part he knew would not be fatal if it struck home. The hilt thudded against her spine and the girl screamed, spiralling downwards.

Huffing in satisfaction the Hunter leapt forwards, snatching her from the air and plunging them both down into the water. The cold made the girl gasp, and she was too stunned to struggle as he dragged her towards the shallows. Her sopping hair coiled around him in pearly ropes, like strings of jewels.

skekMal remembered the brief fantasy he'd once had of drowning her as he took his fill of her body and felt himself twitch against her.

"You put up a good fight as ever, Leina," he said, forcing her to her knees. "Let's feel you struggle on my cock."

The Hunter unleashed himself, and after spitting into his hand he pushed his wettened shaft into the girl's waiting cunt. As he plunged deep inside her he pushed her face down into the river water, making her cough and writhe like a supple eel. When he yanked her head back up for air she cried, "My... my eyeglasses! I might lose them!"

That made the Hunter laugh; at least he knew she truly valued her sight after all. He snatched them from her face and threw them lightly onto the riverbank.

"There, princess. Your pretty new toy won't be spoiled."

He forced her face back into the water again, relishing the clamp of her tight inner-muscles as she thrashed for oxygen. Again and again he tormented her in this way until he spilled his seed inside her, driven to ecstasy by the helpless cacophony of her spluttering.

He released her, letting her crawl up onto the bank. She took the glasses in quivering hands and put them back on her face, her eyes cast down.

"You earn your keep, girl, I'll say that of you," the Hunter sneered. "Or your cunt does, at least."

Her reply was nothing but hateful silence.


	21. The Twelth Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leina makes her escape from skekMal... will she succeed?

The twelth day and the twelth night slipped ever nearer, and Leina was surprised that she hadn't worn her plans to pieces from studying them. Rather than folk stories it was her _own_ she muttered in moments alone, each step painstakingly carved out.

_"Pack away your clothes and your secret blade. Make skekMal drink himself to sleep. Set traps in the woods in case he wakes and follows. Run until you find your mother and the Landstrider. Gather provisions. Travel to the Crystal Desert and seek sanctuary amongst its people."_

It sounded too simple, almost childish, but perhaps it was better for it. Leina wasn't sure that she could manage anything more complicated or long-winded than that. The weeks of relentless torture had exhausted her to the point that even the _thought_ of resistance wearied her, and if she failed Leina knew she'd never have the heart to try again.

Besides, in the past few days she'd fallen upon another problem. skekMal had taken to stealing her eye glasses from her, most frequently when he left her alone while he pursued a hunt. Other times it was out of sheer, grim spite, entertaining himself with how quickly she returned to stumbling blindness when her spectacles were taken away. For this reason Leina continued teaching herself the twists and turns of the woods blind as well as by sight, memorising the smells and textures of things as best she could without skekMal's natural talent. She wasn't sure that she was improving, but the mere process kept her mind focused, hopeful.

Distracted from the possibilities of what might happen if skekMal caught her.

He seemed to lack interest in teaching her to hunt now, although she was rather less of a liability than she'd been before. It was as Leina had thought: he'd been teaching her mainly for his own amusement, not to improve her. Besides, Leina had managed to hold her own against the Hunter during her mock-escape, and that had likely knocked some caution into him. He glared at her often, as if expecting to catch her at something. Yet Leina knew that he had no true suspicions, thinking her physically, emotionally, mentally weak.

_Good_. That was the arrogance she needed to survive.

For the first time in many weeks Leina allowed herself to feel her suppressed grief and anger, making a hardened tool of it. She would flee for Tarron, for her birth parents, every living creature slain and devoured by the Hunter. Leina understood little of spirits or magic but she believed that if Thra felt her desire and bravery their souls would unite within her. She willed it until her head ached from repeating the thought.

Only on the fated day did Leina's resolve falter, plagued with worries and questions. What if she forgot her sense of direction in the woods and never found her mother at all? Or she took too long leaving the camp and arrived to find that Salys had given up and left without fulfilling the plan? Leina tried to ignore them as she folded her clothes into their bag.

Having no idea how quickly skekMal would return Leina had very little time to prepare for that night. She strayed out into the woods, setting net traps and snares across the path she intended to take. They would slow the Hunter down even if he didn't succumb to them- that was, of course, if his keen eyes didn't immediately notice them and render them useless. Leina had to hope this wouldn't be the case. skekMal only avoided his own traps so well because he remembered where he'd put them; he'd never believe she would dare do so such a thing.

She'd never so much as raised a hand to him in all her weeks of captivity, as much as she'd wanted to. Thank Thra she'd kept her temper for so very, very long.

The Hunter returned by nightfall, a slain beast slung on his back. He appeared disgruntled, throwing the thing by the fire and ignoring it as he cast his bloody weapons aside.

"I'll be glad to move on from this place and its meagre pickings," he snapped. "You'd better prepare yourself for a long journey, girl."

_Oh, I am_, Leina thought, then tentatively asked aloud,"Where are we going, my Lord?"

"Never you mind. The less you know the better. You would be piss-scared if I told you. The others always were."

The Hunter sat down heavily and poked the fire, making sparks fly. Leina still hadn't grown used to how different this familiar scene appeared with her eyeglasses, his hulking figure defined down to each scratch in his gruesome mask. Catching her staring he grunted and extended arm arm towards her.

"What are you sitting on the other side of the fire for? Come here. Make yourself useful."

Realising it was in her best interests to appease him Leina edged towards the Hunter and knelt in the grass beside him. He ran a blood-caked hand between her breasts and up her neck, cupping her cheek almost gently.

"I despise these damned things," he said. "They make you look like an insect."

"My eyeglasses, my Lord? I'll take them off, if you want."

"No need. I enjoy seeing something in your eyes for once. It was like trying to read a rock, before."

He pulled her forward, into his lap, her legs around his waist. Leina gripped the front of his robes, shivering as cold bone trophies knocked against her. He smelled of fresh blood and the musky dirt of the woods, the way she herself so often smelled, now.

"Aren't you tired, my Lord?" Leina said, trying not to breathe through her nostrils.

The Hunter laughed.

"You're no heavier than a crawlie. I won't tire from dandling you on my cock."

He opened the front of his robes, jerked upwards beneath her skirts. His girth inside her was as agonising as always, wrenching her near-apart. Leina lowered her head, not wanting him to see the hatred in her expression, but he twisted her face up to his and laughed again, his spittle wetting her.

"Don't hide, blindling."

He slid her up and down on his cock as he used his own hand, rough and careless, his eyes burning into her face. A free hand slid between her buttocks, a talon thumbing her un-filled hole. Leina ground her teeth into her tongue, where white scars had raised from the many times she'd done so before.

"Insult me, witch," said skekMal, suddenly, . "I want to hear the words you fight so hard to swallow."

"Wha-what?" Leina gasped.

She wriggled in his hold, dislodging herself from him. The disappointment of the day's hunt had clearly put the Skeksis in a strange mood, a risky one, and she was better off taking any request with a pinch of salt.

"You have ears; you heard me," said skekMal. "You dare look at me with loathing- now speak it."

He seized her by the ankle and pulled her beneath him, his cocks straining for her. She felt two heads press against one aperture and sensed the threat at once.

"I don't want to make you angry," said Leina.

"Then move your fucking lips."

The Hunter seized her right breast and squeezed until she let out a thin scream.

"Alright! Alright! I... called you a monster once, but you're worse! A raper, a child killer, a slaver, a stupid, stinking animal who rolls over and over in death like a Fizzgig in its own shit. You..."

Hissing, the Hunter buried himself inside her and drooled against her neck, his tongue lapping her pulse point.

"My angry little spitter. Aren't you _precious_?"

Leina gasped with sheer, utter frustration and burst into noisy tears, staining her glasses. She didn't stop even when the Hunter climbed off her and left her be, quivering and leaking come into the grass. A sick kind of relief washed over her.

_This could be the last time he ever touches me. It really might be. I don't have to be his creature anymore. I can be..._ something else.

"There," said the Hunter, tossing the grog flask at her prostrated form. "Drink your lot. Seems to keep you quiet."

Leina tried not to take the flask too readily. It wasn't custom to drink every night, mainly after great successes or losses. However, Leina had noticed that if _she_ drank the Hunter tended to follow suit; it seemed he had some subconscious yearning for the social pastimes he'd once spent amongst his brothers. With theatrical slurping sounds she pretended to sip from the flask, even coughing a few times for good measure.

"Leave me a drop," said the Hunter.

Leina pushed the flask to him, not daring to meet his eyes. It occured to her how oddly similar this night was to their first together, but then again there had been so many like it. It was a wonder she hadn't gone mad from the grinding repetition of it all. Maybe that was what made skekMal so different from the other Skeksis, the vacuous hours stirring his mind.

It took many such hours for the Hunter to get anywhere _near_ drunk that night. The grog, which Leina had discovered he'd distilled himself, rather badly, was weaker than usual, and Leina began to fear they'd drain the flask empty before skekMal was anywhere close to touched by it. But then at last she saw his eyes droop, his bulk sliding back against a tree.

Cautiously Leina stood up and murmured, "My Lord?"

The Skeksis did not stir. Creeping on tiptoe Leina gathered her few possessions- the clothing bag, her concealed blade, her little plans -casting quick looks at the Hunter each time he groaned or grunted in his sleep. She had no idea how soon he'd awaken, but she suspected from his usual light slumber that she didn't have long to flee the area. Gulping an anxious breath she headed off through the trees, weaving around her first few set traps carefully.

Only when she was a good thirty feet or so away from the camp did she dare break into a run. Twigs and leaves snapped underfoot, sounding as loud as broken bones in the quiet night. Moonlight split through the trees like knives through a cutting board, only struggling as the stirring of rain clouds crossed the sky.

Rain. _That_ she hadn't planned for. 

As improved as her sight was Leina knew she'd still struggle in bad weather, and as she ran she prayed the clouds would hold until she'd at least reached the landstrider at the meeting place. Yet she saw and heard nothing for so long that her fears began edging back in, the fear that she'd lose her way.

In the trees behind there was a tiny, near-imperceptible clink, so small that at first Leina thought it a paranoid hallucination. Then a slurring voice filtered through the woods and she knew with a sick squeezing of her stomach that it was not.

"Thought you'd slip away from me, little trickster? I'll slit you from cunt to throat before I ever let you go free."

Faint with terror Leina withdrew her knife, casting the old hairbrush case to the ground. She didn't turn around or answer, only kept running, her breath charring her lungs.

"Do you think I'm jesting? Return to me, or I'll scent you with rut and throw you back into those fucking caves you came from for the Nurlocs to fuck."

He wasn't gaining on her as he usually could; he could barely run straight, sleep and drunkenness dulling him. But he was still faster than any creature Leina had ever known, and she didn't slow for a moment.

"_Leina_!" the Hunter snarled. "Do you heed my threats or not?"

"Oh, threats are _all_ they are," Leina shrieked back, her voice shrill with hysteria. "You wouldn't want to spoil your pet, would you, you vain, pathetic _cock_?"

It was dangerous to provoke him; practically death. The roar skekMal unleashed made Leina let loose of her bladder, urine trickling down her leg into one of her new shoes. He was almost on her now, his feet sending fallen leaves up in tidal arcs on either side of him. His breathing was stattaco with rage, and Leina sensed that if the Hunter caught her now he'd forget that wanted to keep her and cut her throat out.

Suddenly a rip-roar of thunder shook the woods, and rain cascaded down so hard that the drops almost hurt. Leina began to panic, for as she'd suspected the falling rain made it difficult to see through her eyeglasses.

"Leina," the Hunter breathed. "When I catch you I'll fuck you so hard you'll wish that I killed you, here and now."

Only then did Leina turn around to look at him, veering sharply the left as she did so.

"You will _not_ catch me."

skekMal made a jump for her, his blades raised high. Then there was a colossal snap and his whole body whipped into the air, suspended from the trees.

The last trap. A net, tangling around skekMal in such a tight bind that even he was unable to wrestle free of it.

"You," he hissed, his tiny, malevolent eyes narrow with disbelief. "You little fucking cunt."

Leina stepped towards him, her whole body thrumming with elation.

"Yes. I did this. I planned it all, _me_, the idiot, the dog. I did it _all_. And you have no idea how long I've waited."

"Cut me down and I won't hurt you," skekMal said, softly. "Not half as much as you deserve."

"I deserve _nothing_. And you're a liar. You live to hurt and defile people. I won't let you take anything else from me."

"Big talk, for a weakling."

Leina stepped even closer, raising her little knife. skekMal's swimming eyes fixed upon it.

"What _is_ that blasted needle? Where did you get it?"

"The Chamberlain gave it to me, after he _used_ me. He probably thought I'd be caught and get into trouble, be branded a thief as well as a runaway. But I wasn't. And these clothes, the things the _Emperor_ made you accept?"

She hadn't planned any kind of speech but the words kept coming and coming.

"I fucked the Ornamentalist so that she'd make them for me. You never knew _that_, either. I fucked _her_."

"You filthy Gelfling cunt!" skekMal snarled, and rocked so ferociously in the net that Leina almost thought it would snap free of the trees. Somehow it held, but one of skekMal's gleaming blades toppled through the net and hit the grass.

Leina bent to pick it up, then paused midway, staring into the Hunters eyes. Her hand jabbed forward, thrusting her knife in the gaps between skekMal's armour and twisting it into his flesh until she heard a grisly crunch.

Blood erupted in a violent burst, the way water will run up the back of a spoon from a hard-turned tap. The Hunter hacked and coughed in pain, gnashing at the net with his teeth in a desperate effort to escape it. Leina ducked down, grabbed the Hunter's fallen blade and turned around, throwing herself into flight against the rain.

She tasted bloody rainwater in her mouth and swallowed. Strange; she thought she could get used to the taste of blood, if it was _his_.


	22. On The Back Of A Beast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leina's escape begins, but mentally, emotionally, much has still been left behind...

Salys had been waiting for around four hours in the woods before Leina came to her. It did not matter; she would have waited until daybreak, if that was what it took. Besides, it wasn't a cold night, and the anxiety as to whether or not her daughter would show kept Salys from becoming bored.

Beside her the promised Landstrider, Caol, nipped grass placidly and huffed gently from time to time. skekAyuk had acquired him for Salys that morning under the impression that she was taking a long trip to procure some rare herb for the castle kitchen. The creature wouldn't be expected back for days, long enough for Leina to escape and send the beast away again.

They stood together, Salys and Caol, waiting for some tell-tale rustle or faraway voice. The tension was so agonising that Salys nibbled scraps of skin from around her fingers until they bled. Leina had to come, _had_ to; the opportunity to arrange a second meeting might never pass, and the likelihood of the girl slipping away without aid was scarcer still.

Salys had been chased by the image of her tiny, broken daughter for days, the grotesque scar mangling her ear and scalp. Things could surely only decline if she was being routinely attacked by her captor, something Salys still couldn't fathom. Rape was not something that happened often amongst Gelflings, and inflicted by _Skeksis_? Completely unheard of.

Rain started to fall, rattling through the trees like rice in a barrel. Salys turned up the hood of her cloak and leaned into Caol's warmth, drawing comfort from it. The woods were even darker in the rain, cloud smothering the moonlight. Poor Leina must be so frightened out here, sightless and vulnerable. She must be-

"Mama?"

Salys jumped, her throat seizing shut. A small, slim figure landed softly ahead of her, wings shaking off the rain. It held a gleaming, almost circular blade in one hand, and its greenish brown cloak was sodden with water and blood. The face gleaming beneath the cowl was even less like her daughter's than the visage Salys had glimpsed twelve days ago. The lack of expression behind her eyes- eyes shielded by strange glass -frightened her.

"What... what's happened?" Salys whispered, aghast. "Did you... _kill_ Lord skekMal?"

"I don't know," said Leina. "I don't think so. I'm not sure I hit him hard enough. But I hurt him."

Her lips seized into a wild grin. Salys almost stepped back.

"Oh Leina. You know what will happen when the other Lords hear of this. It's treason. They-"

"_He_ won't tell them. He's too proud. He'll try looking for me himself."

Leina spoke quickly, her words running into each other, her fingers tugging her cloak distractedly. A chill of horror picked its way along Salys' backbone.

"Darling. I don't understand why this is happening. _Why_ did that monster kill our Tarron? Why do the Skeksis all want to hurt you? Is it some punishment?"

"No, this is just what they truly are, Mama," Leina said, shaking her head. "They're beasts. They don't love or care about us. We're like... we're lower than Landstriders. And the Hunter- _skekMal_ -he's the most evil of them all. He... tortures me."

Leina's face crumpled, and a tear joined the raindrops on her cheek. Drawing a breath Salys reached out and embraced her, pressing her palms to her daughter's.

"I know," Salys said, softly.

"No, you don't. Not really. Let me show you."

Quickly they exchanged memories, sobbing into each other's shoulders. Salys shared her grief, her desperation, the lengths she had gone to help her daughter, and in return Leina showed her... _horrors_. Worse than what Salys had seen in the castle corridor, worse than anything she herself had ever feared in the world. She felt Leina's dignity and sense of self peeling away, day by day, until she no longer knew who or what she was.

"Oh," Salys moaned. "Oh."

She pulled back, clutching her face as if to hold the pouring images in.

"I'm sorry," said Leina, her voice hitching. "I shouldn't have shown you all of those awful things. I should have hidden them. But you need to understand... I can't tell _anyone_ what the Lords did, Mama. Nobody would believe it, and even if they did, nobody would help me. Wherever I go, I'll have to tell a lot of lies. I'll have to _be_ someone else. I... hope you'll forgive me."

"There's nothing for me to forgive you for, you silly girl. You've done nothing wrong. But I... I worry about you. You've never strayed any further than Stone-in-the-Wood, you don't know anything about the other clans except stories and rumour. You're barely more than a girl. How will you-"

"I'll be alright, Mama," said Leina, smiling a little. "I've learned a lot from the Hunter. Even if I didn't want to."

How odd it was to stare into those misty eyes and feel their focus, gazing back. Eyes this _Hunter_ had fixed for his own amusement and purpose.

"You'd better go quickly," said Salys. "Caol is fed and watered; he'll have enough strength to run for days. I know you've never ridden any animal before but I promise it's not difficult. He's an intelligent thing. And I've hung some rolls of food and water from his saddle- that's everything I can think to tell you."

"Thank you. I... I would have been lost without you."

They hugged again, buffeted by the rain.

"Where are you going? When can I expect you back?"

"It's not safe to tell you," Leina said, shaking her head. "And... I really don't know. Maybe I can't ever come back. If he smelled me in the woods again-"

Leina flinched as though imagining some painful blow.

"_Go_, then," said Salys. "Go now. It's at least a few days' journey in any direction you go, and you'll need a headstart on... that monster."

Leina put her thin hand to Salys' cheek and held it there. It was so cold, so very, very cold.

"I love you, Mum," said Leina. "I hope we see each other again."

"So do I. I love you so, so much."

Leina turned and clambered up onto the Landstrider's back. It was disconcerting for Salys to see Leina so nimble, so precise, so changed. As Caol turned into the rain Salys cupped a hand over her eyes and stared at her girl, feeling a strange mixture of pride and dread. Somehow she couldn't shake the sense that no matter how far Leina fled it would all end badly.

*

_That bitch._

That scheming little bitch. skekMal twisted himself in the net trap, trying to work one of his blades into the ropes. His left dominant arm was tangled above him, chafed raw from his struggling. The other two were tucked flat to his back, quite useless. Now it had begun raining the water had lubricated the rope somewhat, but it still took several minutes before he was able to loosen his arm enough to use it.

_That whore._

Rage and shock had sobered skekMal enough to think clearly, and his thoughts were turned to the hunt. Hunting the Gelfling who had escaped him, the half-blind, feckless girl who'd never once physically attacked him, never once seemed intelligent or brave enough to do so. The little blade she'd put in him was grating against a rib, making him wheeze. It had missed anything vital, thank Thra, but it shocked him how deeply she'd struck, her vast, white eyes alight with hatred.

There was no way skekMal would be able to pursue her directly, not with so deep a wound, nor with the rain washing her scent away. He would need to bide his time, let her think herself safe and settled in whatever hole she sought out until he was ready to take her back. Grunting, the Hunter finally yanked his arm down into the net and got to work cutting himself free. Within minutes he landed in the grass, the impact jolting the little knife in his wound.

_Damn_ the Chamberlain and his stupid games, giving the girl a blade as if it was some toy. He'd pay for that, in time.

Hissing, skekMal decided to follow Leina's remaining scent at least a short distance, curious as to which direction the girl was heading. She'd seen nothing of Thra beyond her village and the castle, at least as far as the Hunter was aware. He'd never been interested enough in her mind to question her knowledge, caring little beyond what her holes offered him. Now he realised what an oversight this had been. That low cunning he'd once sensed in her had been concealed behind whimpering softness, waiting for him to forget that it was there.

There were no excuses for such a lapse, as convincing a victim as she had been. Since cutting her ear skekMal had really believed her tamed, as much as the resentful bitch was ever likely to be. Considering it was _he_ who had made her this wild, unpredictable creature it was his due to reign her in, no matter how long it took.

The trail of scent took skekMal to a small patch of long grass trodden down by three pairs of footprints- one Landstrider, two small and delicate, obviously Gelfling. He smelled Leina all over it, the grassy sweetness of her skin, the musk of her womanhood. Then the Hunter picked up another familiar strain, one he recognised.

The girl's mother, whom he had tracked once before.

skekMal coughed up a throatful of blood and wiped his mouth roughly on his sleeve. He should have _guessed_ the old hag wouldn't leave the girl alone. Part of him wanted to barrel after her and tear out her spleen, but he knew he couldn't risk killing within Gelfling territory. There was nothing stopping him from _interrogating_ her, however. Nothing at all.

Grinning despite his pain the Hunter tracked the mother's scent back to Stone-in-the-Wood. He stood looking at the small, grouped houses with apprehension, weighing up the possibility of being seen at such a late hour. Fortunately the cottage the scent led to was on the outskirts, spaced far enough from the other houses that noise wouldn't necessary alert the other residents. The Hunter sloped across to it, wrenching the outside handle so violently upwards that the lock broke and the door swung inwards. Rain and wind blew behind him into the house, making all the oil lamps gutter.

In a small living room the Gelfing mother knelt, hanging damp clothes in front of the hearth. She turned to the door in surprise and let out a strangled gasp, her small brown eyes bulging with terror. skekMal lurched into the room, banging the door behind him. Blood splashed onto the floorboards in heavy droplets.

"Ask no questions, woman. I have a knife wound. You'll clean and tend to it. I know you Gelfling know some healing."

"Y-yes, my Lord. Of course."

The Hunter watched her scrambling in cupboards and drawers, a muscle in her cheek twitching anxiously. He knew the woman was praying that he had only come to her home by chance, that he didn't know of her involvement in Leina's escape. She didn't look him in the eye as she cleansed, packed and stitched his wound, her fingers, though thick and gnarled with age, nimbler and far more capable than Leina's had been. Though no blood relation there was something familiar about the way she twitched her head, the reflexive clenching of her jaw.

"Will... will that be all, my Lord?"

_Damn_, the woman even stammered like the girl. They truly _were_ kin, after all.

"Hmm, there may be something more," said the Hunter, leaning in. "Let me gather my thoughts."

Balling a fist he punched the Gelfling in the abdomen, sending her sprawling on her back across the hearthrug. Her breath squealed through her lungs like air through a puncture, and a tears ran down both cheeks, slowly. Smirking, skekMal lowered himself down on top of her, pinning one of her reed-like arms over her head.

"I know who you are, little mother. Your stink was in the woods with your cunt daughter's. Tell me where she's going or I'll cut your arm off and force it down your scheming throat."

"I don't _know_, my Lord, I swear it, she didn't tell me!" the woman gasped. "I didn't push her to, I didn't want..."

"Didn't want the words beaten out of you, eh? But you will know _something_. My slave is your offspring; what did she say to you at your meeting place?"

The Hunter dragged on of his blades across the woman's arm, ever so slightly, bringing up a tiny skein of blood.

"Please my Lord, I know so little! She... she said that you and your brethren are evil, that she will have to disguise herself as someone she's not to hide from you. And... she said she _learned_ from you, my Lord. I don't know what. That's all, really, I know it's not much..."

The woman was telling the truth; the Hunter smelled it in the sourness of her fear. He laid down his blade, growling irritably.

"Useless. I'll have to scour every Thra-forsaken place for some trace of her. I should have left her blind; she was far less trouble then."

"Please, my Lord, don't go after my daughter," the mother croaked, raising her fear-ravaged face to his. "She's only a Youngling, foolish, rebellious. If you seek a... a servant I would gladly take her place."

The Hunter laughed, the motion pulling his wound enough to anger him again.

"And what would _I_ do with a dried up carcass like you? Nothing. You know _why_ I took your daughter alive while I cut her brother's head from his shoulders? _She_ was young and soft, a worthy hunt, and will be again."

He watched more tears roll down the woman's face, hate and grief and regret clouding her eyes. Eyes nothing like the Leina's, and yet-

skekMal opened the front of his robes, hissing through the pain of his wound, and roughly parted the mother's thighs. They were still as soft as a girl's.

"My Lord, what are you doing? I thought-"

"Hush, hag. I've no interest in keeping you as my pet, but I won't forget you slipping under my nose like an eel-worm. You'll take punishment for that."

The Hunter pushed inside her, thinking of Leina, thinking of her frail body arched up into his. He barely saw the woman screaming under him at all.

*

The Crystal Sea seemed like a mirage, distant and impossible. Leina hadn't been alone for so long since the Hunter had first enslaved her, and even with Caol's sturdy warmth beneath her she felt intense discomfort. She kept expecting skekMal to thunder through the trees in their wake, blades poised to slit the Landstrider's heels to bring him down. As unlikely as this was it made every minute feel as long as an hour, and during the brief breaks they made to eat and rest Leina twitched through a terrible, fractious half-sleep.

Even awake and clinging to Caol's saddle Leina flitted in and out of sicky dreams, dreams the Hunter was taking her again. His wet beak on her neck, his blades wrenching muscle from her shoulders as he forced his cocks deep into her dryness, his growling voice.

_"Stupid blinding whore."_

Leina tried to focus on her aching thighs or the whipping of the trees on either side of her as Caol dashed through the woods. It angered her how quickly the joy of success had evaporated, how _completely_ skekMal consumed her thoughts. She couldn't seem to stop replaying the same awful memories she'd shown to her mother, concocting new ones, suffering them all with the same loathsome shame as ever.

At a certain point she became too concious of his sword at her side, his biting tool of death. Leina had intended to keep it with her as a reminder of her days with the Hunter, perhaps once day even use it against him, but she could almost feel its evil like a dart in her side, and could keep it no more. On one of her short breaks Leina walked into the thick of the woods and threw the sword into a muddy pool, watching as it sunk, lost, beneath the surface. The journey without it felt lighter, somehow, though not by much. 

When at last yellow sands came into view Leina forced Caol to stop again so that she could hang over his side to be sick. She was humiliated by the idea of speaking to and falling in with other Gelfling, something she'd never managed even before skekMal. Now she wasn't _just_ a dirty Grottan girl, she was a mutilated slave, soiled, disheveled. No matter that Leina couldn't tell them this; feeling that knowledge weighing on her made her feel hopeless, humiliated.

Still she pushed on, gritting her teeth against the swell of grey, ugly thoughts. At the first sand dune a male and female Gelfling stood watching her approach, their faces swirled with blues and browns that could have been paint or tattoos; the Stonewood tales of their strange clan had never quite defined such things. All Leina knew was that they were strangely beautiful, and as she slipped down from Caol's back she was all too conscious of her travel-stained appearance.

_"Grottan whore. Grottan whore."_

_Why_ couldn't she keep his voice out of her head, even for a minute? She felt him like a restless spirit at her back, making her shiver even under the beating sun.

"A thousand welcomes, sister," the man said gently, raising a hand to her. "It seems you have journeyed far to meet us."

"Yes," said Leina. "I... _please_, I need your help. There is someone... someone who means me harm, and I need to hide from them. I can't say much more. It's not safe. I..."

"All is well," the man said. "We can provide refuge, and talk of your circumstances at a better time. I am Rek'yr, and this is Fr'oudea. What name may we call _you_ by?"

Leina bit her lip and considered for a moment, struggling through the monstrous clamour of thoughts for something she could bear.

"Merce. It's Merce."

"Merce," Rek'yr repeated, and the girl, Fr'oudea, nodded. "I pray that you will find solace here."

The words were honest, heartfelt. Swallowing a tearful lump Leina bowed her head.

"So do I."


	23. The Duality Of Fate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leina lives in fear of the Hunter returning for her, and so she should...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes at the end ;)
> 
> *The sequel to this story, Mercy, is now out! Skip to Chapter 7 of that story if you want to get straight in to skekMal/Gelfling content*

The sand-ship _Talusa_ cruised through the Crystal Sea at a languid pace, its bone and crystal bow cutting dunes as if they were no denser than Bell Bird down. Rek'yr and Fr'oudea sat port-side, watching the small Grottan girl at the other end of the ship dart back and forth with a spear clamped in her fist.

"Three unnum Merce has been with us," Rek'yr commented, sadly. "And still she is restless. I fear our teachings will take many trine to calm her spirit. Has she told you yet what happened to her in the Endless Forest?"

"Some, but not all," said Fr'oudea. "She was... terribly abused and overpowered. You've seen her scars. There are many more- she's been whipped, tortured, things I can't even begin to envision. I'm not sure whether it was a Gelfling or some other creature who did it; I suppose it doesn't matter. But if she will not speak of it then she cannot set the matter to rest."

"She believes her tormentor will follow her here," said Rek'yr. "That is why she continues this one-sided battle; to prepare for that eventuality."

"She asked me if I knew of anyone who could train her in combat. I told her it is not our way to fight against destiny, only to accept it, whether pain or even death lies ahead. But I... it's hard to watch her struggle, Rek'yr. To think of her suffering, whether in the past or future."

"To suffer is to live," said Rek'yr. "And all suffering passes like a high wind. She will endure."

Fr'oudea balled her fists and shook her head.

"I'm starting to believe it shouldn't _be_ so. When we are alone together, and we try to... to be _close_... it's like she's back _there_, where she was before she came to us. Her eyes... I know she sees so little, but in them there are terrors I wish that I was blind to."

She fell silent, and they both observed Merce lunging and gasping at thin air for a time. Sweat had soaked through her robes and made the paint daubed in Dousan fashion on her face begin to run.

"You love her," said Rek'yr.

There was no question there, only simple, stated fact.

"I know it is... soon," said Fr'oudea. "But I know what I feel for her. I'm not sure if she feels the same, not exactly. My parents pray that she doesn't; they disapprove of two Clans intermixing, especially one as lowly as hers. I'm fortunate they tolerate her presence on board, let alone becoming part of our family. But time will tell."

"Wise words. Tolerance can grow into something deeper, more meaningful. When Merce is ready to bond with our Clanspeople she will be better received. But that moment must be awaited with patience."

Merce, amidst her ducking and thrusting, stumbled over her feet and fell headlong, dropping her spear with a clatter. She scrambled up into a sitting position, knees against her chest, and pulled her eyeglasses off her face. As she knuckled each eye it became apparent even from a distance that she was crying.

"Go. Speak with her," said Rek'yr.

Fr'oudea glanced at him, her brow furrowed.

"_Go_. I know in my heart that she is comforted by your presence."

Nodding, Fr'oudea crossed the deck and crouched beside Merce, placing a hand gently on her forearm. She murmured something in the Grottan girl's good ear, and Rek'yr saw Merce break out into a small, tight smile. The women stood together, their heads close, and briefly kissed. It was such an intimate moment Rek'yr turned respectfully away, not wishing to intrude.

Privately he thought that Merce needed the guidance of a healer, one of both spiritual and physical means. Though Rek'yr visited the _Talusa_ infrequently he had dropped by often enough to observe the girl's behaviour, and since their first meeting it hadn't improved. If anything she was worse, troubled to such depths that even the simplest social interaction seemed fraught and tiring, driving her below deck to her room after only a few minutes The conversation itself was strange, halting, heavy with the unspoken past.

What creature had broken this poor child? Who or _what_ could lower themselves to such evils?

These questions haunted Rek'yr long after he left the ship and returned to wandering the sands, stirring suspicions he wasn't quite ready to admit even to himself.

*

"Merce. _Merce_. You're dreaming again."

It took an age for Leina to open her eyes, for she had forgotten her new name again. Too often she still thought of herself as Leina, the girl she'd been before. It was dangerous to remember it, to respond to it, but in sleep she always did. Besides, the dream reeled her back in under its heavy weight, like a hand clamped over her mouth.

She was back with _him_ again, a day of that first week, or some changed half-memory of it.

_"I see you, girl," growled skekMal. "Burying the meat I gave you, like a dog with a bone. You'll dig it up and eat it."_

_"I _can't_," Leina whispered. "I can't eat my brother."_

_She sensed the Hunter creep around her, scuffing the freshly-turned dirt with his toe._

_"Can," said skekMal. "And will. There are worse things I could do with that flesh that fill your mouth with it. Now finish it, wretch."_

_Gagging, Leina picked up the soiled gobbet of flesh and bit into it, the mingled flavour of soil and blood so foul her whole body rippled agonisingly as she swallowed. She stopped, moaning, completely gripped by violent nausea._

_"More," growled the Hunter. "Don't waste it, or else your brother will have died for nothing."_

_Leina tried, but retched so hard the meat hung in bile-coated strings from her mouth. The Hunter's hand snapped across the back of her head, flattening her against the grass._

_"There, if you like the taste of dirt so much. I'd expect nothing more from Grottan filth, fucking and eating foulness in the dark."_

_"Y-yes, my Lord."_

_"But you don't remember your caves, do you?" the Skeksis taunted. "You know nothing but that pathetic Stonewood village. Plain-living and playing nursemaid to your mother's true blood child. A better life than you deserve. You should thank me for returning you to your station."_

_Leina said nothing, too sick to even open her mouth_. 

_"Talk, runt. I said you should _thank_ me."_

_The Hunter dropped to his haunches, pulling Leina's head to one side. With his other hand he reached under her dress and prised her legs apart, crudely feeling her cunt. Even that touch was excruciating to her bruised flesh._

_"Thank you, my Lord. Thank you-"_

_Suddenly the Skeksis was on her back, the head of a cock nudging her buttocks, edging between them. _

_"Thank you..."_

"Merce! Merce, you'll wake my parents, you have to stop, please, it's not real!"

Leina/Merce opened her eyes at last, blinking the horrors away. Above her Fr'oudea hung, wide-eyed, tresses of black hair brushing Leina's cheek. She smelled of incense and night-sweat, not the forest stink of skekMal. Leina raised her arms and wrapped them around Fr'oudea, comforted by the femaleness of her tattooed form against her.

"I'm sorry, Fr'ou," said Leina, into Fr'oudea's hair. "I wish I could make it stop. It feels like he's really here with me. The _Animal_."

That's what she called the Hunter now, to avoid either of his aliases. To avoid the risk of being known as a fugitive from the Skeksis' keep. 

"He's _not_, I promise you," said Fr'oudea. "And maybe... maybe he won't ever find you. After all, any traveller not native to these lands would need guidance across the sands. Rek'yr would surely warn you if he believed you were in danger, perhaps even refuse the Animal passage."

"Isn't that against your people's beliefs?"

"Oh, we can nudge fate a little, we just don't believe it can be fled from. So trust me, Rek'yr will do his best to help you, although... without knowing what the Animal looks like he might not know whether or not a visitor to the Sea is really _him_."

Leina sighed, and rolled onto her side.

"Not telling you that is what's keeping me safe. I can't explain why. You just have to believe me."

"I do," said Fr'oudea, lightly running a hand down Leina's back, between her wings. Touching half a dozen white, gnarled scars, including the shallow stab wound the Hunter had made when he'd fucked her in the river. "I just worry so very much that nothing will change if things carry on like this. You're making yourself so ill with all these sleepless nights."

Fr'oudea's caress aroused Leina, yet at the same time nauseated her, filling her with thoughts of skekSil and skekEkt's creeping fingers, her submissive acceptance of them both. If only her friend knew that more than one monster haunted her, that not every abuse had been entirely forced. Perhaps she wouldn't like Leina half so much, then.

"I'm thinking too much about the past," said Leina. "Come here. Distract me."

Clenching her mind against vile, pulsing memories she took Fr'oudea's arm and guided her down between her legs, welcoming her soft, fingers, the tickle of her hair against her thighs.

*

**3 Unnum Earlier**

Looking down at the Gelfling mother weeping on her cottage floor the Hunter uttered a grunt of utter disgust. 

_Fuck_ the Emperor's wishes. Fuck _appearances_. He _should_ kill the Gelfling, after all. skekMal had been picking off Stonewood and Spriton clan members for many trine without raising too much suspicion; granted he'd never been bold enough to slaughter one in its own den, but with the woman's offspring no doubt already assumed slain by some stray beast it wouldn't be so difficult to make _her_ death appear as such. It would be satisfying to devour a traitor's flesh, after all.

Yet even he pulled his blade the Hunter halted again, the tip of it cutting the squeaking woman's collarbone. Leaving the bitch alive at least a _little_ longer would give skekMal leverage over the girl when he found her, a life to dangle if she didn't comply and behave. If the woman died _now_ the Hunter had no guarantee the girl wouldn't catch wind of it; after all, who knew if these two had any spies passing messages back and forth?

Besides, the mother was an excellent bartering tool- _and_, of course, a punishment. He would kill the mother in front of Leina, force her to lick her fresh blood from the floor like a dog.

"Please don't kill me," the woman sobbed. "I'm sorry, my Lord, really I am."

"Shut it," said skekMal.

With a violent ripping he cut the woman's shift from her body, waving it before her.

"Would your girl recognise this if she saw it?"

"I... I don't know, my Lord," the woman babbled, scrambling uselessly to cover herself. "I don't think so. Her eyes were so poor..."

"The _scent_, then. She'd know your Stonewood reek, wouldn't she?"

"Oh... oh, yes, of course. She relied on it, my Lord."

"I'll take it then. You can keep your wretched life, but under the condition you will not send word to your whore daughter. You will tell _no one_ I was here. Carry on as you did before, or else I'll come back and open your puny veins. Clear enough?"

"I... yes, my Lord."

The woman dragged herself back across the room, cowering, leaving a trail of seed and blood. 

"Please don't kill my little girl, my Lord. Have mercy."

"Hmph. If I wanted her dead her guts would have been feeding the Gobblers long ago."

The Hunter left the village quickly, eager to return to camp and rest before beginning his next long hunt. He wouldn't return to the castle until Leina was secured; as much as he wanted to punish his brothers for enabling her escape for their own amusement the idea of their brief, gloating expressions was a humiliation he refused to bear. No; he'd arrive dragging the whore across the flagstones, her pretty body naked and exposed.

_Fuck_ the Gelfling guards and their gossip, too.

At least _this_ time they'd have something worth talking about.

Over the next few unnum skekMal's hunt played out, beginning at the close range of the Sami Thicket and Spriton Planes while his knife wound healed then moving on to where the neighbouring clans resided. It _had_ appeared that the girl had been heading North West, but that was the direction of the Crystal Sea, far too dangerous a terrain for a half-blind youngling to venture. Besides, despite the Hunter's few superstitions he didn't believe fate would fall so heavily in his favour that Leina would flee to the very place he _himself_ had planned to eventually take her.

No, it was far more likely coincidence or misdirection, an attempt to throw him off. The girl would be drawn to the East, bolting home like a Crawlie to its dungeon nest.

At the border of the Sami Thicket skekMal slew a Rakkida, addled and halfway to death already in the throes of the Scientist's many experimental poisons. Before skinning it and taking its meat the Hunter hacked off one of the beast's paws, wrapping it in his cloak to use later. As he slowly moved around the perimeters of each Gelfling settlement he occasionally took someone captive to interrogate them as to whether or not Leina had been seen, killing them and leaving Rakkida prints in the earth afterwards to cover his tracks. 

Not a single one of these unfortunate creatures knew anything of use, and there wasn't a trace of the girl's scent anywhere. Before covering even half of the Eastern territories the Hunter realised that Leina really _must_ have gone West, after all, but he refused to turn back until he'd satisfied himself this wasn't another trick on her part. Three unnum had passed, by which time the girl must be smug in her escape, thinking herself well rid of him.

She would see.

skekMal travelled to the Crystal Desert within a matter of days, barely pausing for rest. His long hunt had packed muscle and stamina onto him that had been lost after his scuffles with the Arathim and Leina, making him twice the opponent he had been before. As he pounded the desert sands, squinting into the wind, he wondered what approach he should take with the girl, taunting or brute force. He'd always enjoyed a mixture of both.

"An unexpected visit, skekMal," said Rek'yr, appearing from behind a wind-scoured tree. "You do not hunt here as much as you once did."

"These sands try my patience," said the Hunter. "I'm not here for simple prey, though I'll take it, if it crosses my path. I seek a Gelfling criminal by the name of Leina. She abandoned her service without warning and attacked me on her way out. I bear a scar from her blade. I've come to bring her back."

"A troubling tale," said Rek'yr, bowing his head. "But none has come here bearing that name. I would not fail to tell you if it was so, my friend."

The Hunter nodded; this, at least, he could trust.

"She uses another name, then. This girl cannot be missed. Grottan. Scarred. Mostly blind, with eyeglasses to aid her sight. Not many by that description on Thra, let alone here."

Straightening up, Rek'yr gave the Hunter a long, hard look. skekMal saw the recognition in his eyes and grinned, sensing the oncoming peak of his quest.

"There is a girl currently residing amongst members of my clan who resembles the unfortunate creature you detail. But if it is she you seek then I must ask you do not cause her undue harm, and I will not be the one to guide you back when you find her."

"You sympathise with the little beast."

"My friend, if even a fraction of what is rumoured to have befallen her in her Master's keep is truth then I cannot defend any punishment she faces."

skekMal barked out a laugh.

"I don't expect you to. I want passage through this wasteland, that's all I ask."

"And that is all you shall receive."

Side by side they walked, the Gelfling and the Skeksis, for the last time they ever would, as friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *The sequel to this story, Mercy, is now out!*
> 
> So ends Lap Dog on one of my fabulous cliff hangers! This story is now complete before I start the sequel; once the first chapter is done I'll link it here! I'll probably go through this story and make minor edits from time to time, in the meantime any comments would be appreciated- I very much welcome hearing what you would like to see happen in the sequel as I'm very much open to suggestion and the turning of fate! 
> 
> I never ever expected this story to take off the way it did, let alone be popular enough for people to want a sequel! I'm really happy and can't wait to begin ❤


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